Masen Has Fallen
by OtherRootVegetable19
Summary: College Junior, Edward Masen's life has taken hit after hit, and he's just trying to get by as best he can. When the girl he's convinced is 'the one' stumbles into his life; he's not prepared for her or the utter disarray she brings into his life. EPOV. AU/AH
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I, by no means, claim to own anything remotely related to the Twilight Universe. No copyright infringement intended.

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 **Prologue**

There was a time, when I was younger, that I believed in fairytales. I know it sounds stupid, even childish, but I believed in the kind of stuff that my sister used to prattle on about during tea parties with her stuffed _friends_ , and I'm not even ashamed to admit it.

Well, _now_ I'm not.

Because, at the time, I didn't dare tell anyone. It wasn't something that little boys like myself talked about with their friends, siblings or even parents. These were thoughts I kept to myself, marvelling in the dreams of 'Happily Ever After' that I so believed in. I was hopeless. My mom used to call me a hopeless dreamer. Sometimes she still does, but things have changed since... just _since_.

She used to tell me that the world was a beautifully ugly place, which was something I didn't truly understand until I was right there in the middle of a place that was both beautiful and ugly at the same time. It was then that I decided that it was easier to live in the world of dreams. Life was simpler in my head; less stressful, and less painful.

Because, in the fairytales, things usually worked out in the end. And, if they didn't; well, then it wasn't yet the end.

So, I always thought that I would one day find the girl for me, and that would be it. One day, I would just see her, and the great big world would instantly fall into place. It would be simple; it would be easy, and we would overcome whatever obstacle we had to, because we would be _together_. We would fall in love, and everything would magically be perfect, because that was how fairytales worked. It was a belief I held onto for a long time.

Until I just didn't anymore.

I grew up, and my outlook on life and love changed drastically. Life did that to me. By the time I got to university, I'd almost given up on all of it. School was hard, life was harder, and I was busy trying to just get through it all without completely falling to pieces.

So when she stumbled into my life - quite literally, might I add - I wasn't prepared.

Because, you see, the thing is that I _did_ meet the girl… I looked at her, and I just _knew_ \- and then, from that moment on, nothing about my life was ever remotely simple or easy.

Fucking fairytales.

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 **Chapter One**

"Masen, go long!"

I can barely take a step before the football is hurtling straight at my head, courtesy of the lump that is Emmett McCarty. Naturally, my first instinct is to duck, which is what I do, and the ball sails harmlessly over my head, making its thrower groan. He should have known better.

The ball bounces a few times, before it's retrieved by the lanky blond standing a way's behind me, Jasper Whitlock.

"If you aren't even going to play," Emmett shouts my way, jogging towards me; "what the fuck are you doing here?"

I sigh. "I came to pick up my keys," I tell him. _Again_. "I'm going to the library. My shift starts in twenty minutes."

"But it's our first week back," Jasper protests, sidling up to me with the ball in his hands. He looks genuinely confused. "Tell me you're kidding. We're expecting about a hundred people at the house tonight, and you've already picked up a _shift_."

I glare at him. "Don't you think I already know all of this?" I ask, and he knows it's a rhetorical question from the bite in my tone. He _knows_ the kind of pressure I'm under. "And plus, it's only for a couple of hours. I'm sure the two of you can get started on the preparations without me."

They exchange a worried look, which makes me crack up. Sometimes they're such children. Our friends sometimes refer to them as my _special_ children, because they would surely die if I wasn't around.

I take the ball from Jasper, and spin it in my palm. It's been so long since I actually came out to _play_ with my friends, and it brings a nostalgic sigh out of me. I shake my head, ridding my mind of the thought. I have other things to think about. "I promise I'll be back by five, five thirty the latest," I assure them. Then, to Emmett: "Now, give me my fucking keys."

Emmett digs in his back pocket of his jeans. "How are we supposed to get home?"

"Uh, the same way I got here," I say, tossing him the football. "Ever heard of public transport?"

Jasper shudders. "Too many germs."

Emmett nods. "Especially on this campus, man. It's crawling with excitable freshmen. Who knows what kind of diseases we could pick up?"

I roll my eyes. "Says the man who went six weeks without washing his hair last year."

"It was an experiment," he defends.

"If your aim was to have Carmen dump you, then you succeeded."

He doesn't appreciate my teasing, and I know I'm about five seconds away from a bruised arm, so I high tale out of there, breaking into a jog as I head to the parking lot nearest the empty left football field. I check my watch. Fifteen minutes. It would definitely take me longer to get to the library without my car, but then I've still got to find parking.

But it _is_ our first week back. Surely the main campus won't be that busy.

I'm half right. I'm lucky to find a parking spot near the library but, once again, I have to jog to make it in time to meet Mrs Cope on her way out of her office, handbag and notebook diary in tow.

"Oh, Edward," she says, clearly startled. "I thought you weren't starting until Monday."

I shrug. I'm not about to tell her that I begged Ben Cheney for this three-hour slot, because I need to pick up shifts wherever and whenever I can get them. "I missed you this summer," I say instead, even sparing her a wink, and she flushes almost instantly. Okay, so I may sometimes take advantage of the fact that she has a not-so-secret thing for me. It's written all over her face.

Because, hey, she approves my pay check.

"Were you headed out?" I ask.

She takes a moment to gather herself. "I was," she manages to say. "I have an appointment."

The way she says the word makes me think that I _definitely_ don't want to know. They've been times when we've got a little too close for comfort. She's a woman who isn't shy about saying whatever is on her mind, and she's just lucky that I'm not likely to report her for sexual harassment.

I normally work in the East Wing of the library. It houses majority of the fiction books, as well as the section reserved for the acquisition of second-hand novels and textbooks. The library offers a small fee for any old books from students, and sells them for next to no profit. Mrs Cope made sure to tell me it was _next to no_ profit, and I'm still not sure that I believe her.

As soon as Mrs Cope has left, I take a quick look around as I settle in behind the main counter on one of the high stools. I spy several other upperclassmen on shift, but the library is quiet, so they're all lost in their own little worlds. For a moment, I don't know what to do. I'm thinking that maybe I should find a book to read before I start people watching. It's easy to fall into the trap.

Sighing heavily, I do just the thing that I told myself I wouldn't. My eyes drift towards my right side, where the library is rather empty of people. The East Wing isn't nearly as busy as the North, South or West, even in the first week back, but it _is_ rather ridiculous how bare the tabes are. There's a group of four girls sitting at a corner table, quietly discussing something among themselves, but they're too far away for me to recognise. And then there's a pair of men - who don't look remotely like students - sitting at a table near the girls. On my left, there are more tables occupied, though there's a lot of chatter going on.

It's not loud enough to warrant a talking-to but it's really starting to get on my nerves. This is a library.

To distract myself, I take a look at the small notice board on the wall behind me. Mrs Cope usually puts up her to-do list in the bottom right hand corner, and I'm always happy to cut it down for her. Because I'm lazy and don't want to move, I grab a pile of new books from beneath the counter, and start preparing them to cover them in protective plastic. It's a mind-numbing process, and I've never been more grateful for the distraction from my life.

It isn't until three thirty, that I actually have to do something. I'm still cutting down the edge of a textbook's back cover when I notice a figure move into my light. Well, stumble, really, and I automatically look up, my eyes immediately locking on a deep set of chocolate brown eyes that belong to a beautiful girl with a heart-shaped face and chestnut hair hanging low on her back.

But it's her eyes. They are open wide, and the smile on her face is just as open, practically drawing me in; making it so difficult to look away.

I like to think I'm a relatively suave guy, who can handle himself when faced with a pretty girl; but all I do is stare. Blatantly. I can't help myself.

I think my mouth is open.

 _Close your mouth, Masen._

My jaw snaps shut and I swallow. "Are you all right?" I ask, collecting myself.

She smiles through her own embarrassment, the pears of her cheeks turning an inviting shade of pink. "I was wondering if you could help me," she says, clearly choosing not to comment on her almost-fall.

I stand up quickly. Too quickly, because she flinches. "Uh," I stutter. "What can I do for you?"

"I'm looking for a book."

I can't help my smile. "Does this book have a name?"

"Not exactly," she admits, unknowingly trapping her bottom lip between her teeth and making my gaze flicker downwards for a moment. "I need a book that explains the Constitution."

"Explains it?"

"Well, there are books that lay out the Constitution, stating all the Amendments, and there are books that explain the _history_ of the Constitution, but not many that actually..."

" _Explain_ it," I finish, and she nods. Then: "You're a freshman, aren't you?"

She blinks, as if she's surprised that I know - or don't know.

I'm quick to explain, before she thinks I'm some kind of stalker. "Uh, well, I mean, it's obvious you haven't visited our self-service feature on the library website, which I believe is something that you're shown during orientation, am I correct?"

She seems to relax slightly.

I can't stop looking at her, but I know I have to. "Uh, so, well, I think I'll just do the search for you, and then you can learn it properly with the rest of your classmates." I don't wait for a reply as I log into the administrator computer in front of me. I'm aware of the fact that she's watching me, my fingers dancing over the keyboard. I feel hot under her scrutiny, and I can feel the tips of my traitorous ears giving me away.

She notices the moment I hit 'Enter,' and then leans over the counter to peek at the screen of the monitor. "Found anything?"

I lean forward as well, scanning the list of books that have come up. I can smell her hair - something fruity - and I resist the urge to close my eyes and blatantly breathe her in. "Uh, well, there are a few," I say, opening the description of a particular one in a separate tab in the Internet browser. "This looks like it could be promising." I turn the monitor so that she can read it herself.

When she crinkles her nose adorably, I open up a different description. In the end, she decides on two books, both of which can be found only in the Law Library. When I tell her this, I anticipate her next question.

"The Law Library is not on the main campus," I tell her.

"It's on the Law campus?"

I smile. "Technically, yes," I say. "Do you know where the New Administration Building is?"

She nods.

"That's where you'll find the library. Well, it's in the building to the right. Can't miss it." I pick up a pack of bright pink _Post-It_ s and a pen, and note down the names of the books for her. I write slowly, wracking my brain for something else to say, just to keep her here. Once I give her the _Post-It_ , she'll be gone, and I still don't know her name.

I glance at her when I've written the last word, and her eyes are on my mouth, where I'm suddenly aware of the tip of my tongue sticking out from between my lips. I immediately reel it in, and she flushes.

"Do you mind my asking why you're looking for these books?" I ask, expecting her to say something about reading ahead for one of her Pre-Law courses.

She surprises me. "Just some research for my father."

I nod thoughtfully. "You're a better child than I," I say, still trying to figure out how to get her name. Though, I don't know what would happen even if I _did_ manage to get it. It's doubtful I'll see her again.

She shrugs, her eyes dropping to the _Post-It_.

I sigh internally, before I do the mature thing and peel off the top _Post-It_. I want to say something else. I _have_ to say something else, but I just can't, as I hand her the pink square.

"Thank you," she says kindly, bouncing slightly. She glances down at my chest, as if she's looking for a name tag. "Uh, I didn't catch your name."

I breathe a sigh of relief. "It's Edward," I say, smiling widely at her.

She returns my smile, and then starts to walk away.

I snap to attention. "Wait," I say, making her look back at me; "I didn't catch yours."

She laughs at me, her eyebrows raised. I can tell her laughter is directed at me and I don't know why. "I prefer it this way," she says.

I blink, dumbfounded.

And then she's really walking away this time, and I don't have the wherewithal to call her back. Eventually, I drop back down to my stool and let out a breath. What the hell just happened?

Who _was_ that?

As I think back, there was nothing remotely exciting about our conversation, and yet I'm severely rattled. It's the girl. I look to my right where she's returned to the table from where she came, and I can't help my hopeless romantic brain thinking that she's _the_ girl; the one I've been waiting for.

I shake my head. This is insane. I don't have time for this. There's already too much on my plate, without adding in the allure of this mystery girl.

But what if she really is the one?

I drop my gaze to the books I'm covering. I return to the mundane task of sticking plastic, before I check that the books are, in fact, in the system. My foot is tapping restlessly, and I know I have to do something. I gather the finished books in my arms, and head towards the shelves behind the tables on the right, forcing myself not to look at them. I'm aware of the fact that conversation halts when I move past the table occupied by the girl and her friends, but I try not to think about it too much.

The books are shelved quickly, even though I try to take my time.

On my way back to the counter, a voice stops me. A voice coming from _the_ table, saying my name.

I turn to look at the girls, immediately recognising at least half of them. "Rosie," I say, and the returned scowl just makes me smile. She _hates_ that nickname.

Rosalie Hale practically growls at me. If I'm being perfectly honest, the blonde bombshell has always frightened me, though I'll never admit it. Willingly, at least. "Eddie."

I roll my eyes at her returned hated nickname. "What are you doing in the library?" I ask, the amusement clear in my tone of voice. I'm forcing myself not to look at the brown-eyed girl, but I can feel her gaze on me. "It's not that time of year yet, is it?"

She fakes a laugh. "We were taking a tour, and just got stuck here," she says, indicating the other girls. "Bella and Angela here are freshmen in our corridor, you see. I'm responsible for getting them integrated into student life."

I glance to Rose's right where two girls are sitting. Bella and Angela. Which one is which? "I'm so sorry," I say conspiratorially; "of all the people to get stuck with."

Rose chucks a pen at me. "Idiot," she mutters, as I trap the pen against my abdomen with my forearm. "What are _you_ doing here? I thought you'd be getting ready for tonight's party."

"I left the boys in charge," I say.

"Oh God no."

I laugh. "It'll definitely be interesting, that's for sure." Then: "So you're coming?"

"Wouldn't miss it, would we, Alice?"

 _Alice_.

I'd been able to ignore her presence until Rose forces her into my mind. Now, I don't have anything against Alice Brandon. If anything, I think she's rather nice, if a little _too much_ sometimes. My avoidance of her is to do with my guilt; heavy, sometimes paralysing guilt over the fact that I knew Jasper was messing around with other girls when he and Alice were supposedly together.

"We'll definitely be there," Alice says, meeting my gaze. She's relentless sometimes. Her tiny frame means nothing when one has eyes as commanding as those. I'm convinced that she's really a pixie.

I look away first. "And you two?" I ask the two freshmen. "Are you going to brave it?"

"Uh," they both start in unison, before they laugh together.

Rose shakes her head. "And have you and your boys corrupt them? No way."

"Oh, Rosie, we're not _that_ bad," I say, rolling my eyes again. Back to the two girls, I say: "You should definitely come. This is a personal invitation, courtesy of Edward Masen, President of only the best fraternity on campus."

Rose nods. "Okay, I can't fault you there, Eddie," she says. "You boys _are_ the best."

"Save for one," Alice comments, and I shift awkwardly.

"Really," I say to Bella and Angela, still not sure which is which, but I think I _know_ without truly knowing. "You should come." I meet the gaze of Brown-Eyes, and use my lower voice. " _Please_."

Her blush is instant, and I resist the urge to smile smugly.

"Edward," Rose says quietly, but there's an edge in her voice. Something new, like some kind of warning.

"What?"

"I think you should get back to work, don't you?"

I frown, but I eventually nod. "It's was nice seeing you again, Rose. Alice." I take a breath. "Nice meeting you both, Bella and Angela. I'm looking forward to seeing all four of you tonight." And then I turn and head back to the counter. I can't quite figure out what happened at the end there, and I'm even more rattled than I was before. The _whole_ thing was so weird.

I want her to come to the house tonight. I _need_ her to be there.

I return to covering books, trying to take my mind off the girl, and her expressive eyes. They've captivated me, and I feel like I can't remember what life was like before I laid eyes on her. It's stupid and cliche, I know, but I can't help thinking that there's now colour in the world.

I chuckle to myself. God, I'm pathetic sometimes.

There's movement to my right, and I look up straight away. The girls are leaving. I feel slightly panicked at the thought that _she_ could be walking out of here, and that would be it. I want to say something; do something, but my body won't move. It's just as well, though, as I'm sure that I'll just end up embarrassing myself.

I've done it before. With Makenna, but we don't talk about that.

All four girls wave at me as they leave, and I wave back. I'm a little worried that Alice waved, because I can only imagine that she must have something planned. A woman scorned and all that. Jasper better watch out.

I watch them leave, followed closely by the two men that were sitting at the table near them. There's a burst of chatter when they've disappeared, and I notice that several people look in my direction, which is just confusing. Without giving it much thought, I get back to covering books. When five o'clock rolls around, I gather my things and wait for the next person on the roster to arrive.

The moment I spot Jessica Stanley, I bolt.

The boys have done nothing but situate the keg in the backyard by the time I get back to the house. I'm in too much of a confused mood to do anything but sigh in disappointment. And Emmett wonders why they voted _me_ the President and not him. He jokes about it, but I think he's secretly glad that he doesn't have the added responsibility. With football and his degree; he already has a lot on his plate.

Add that to the fact that he's been pursuing Rosalie Hale for close to two years without success; the bloke is _busy_.

I get to work setting the house up for the party. It's important to put things away that we don't want to lose or break. We pick a name out of a hat, and that person's room is chosen as the 'goods' room,' where all our valuable items are stored behind the locked door. I wear the key around my neck.

I like this part though. Jasper always teases that I'm a slave driver because, really, I live for telling people what to do. My mom claims that my sister was always the bossy one when we were little, and I was ever compliant. Now I'm just making up for it. I relish in all this power.

We're not allowed to recruit any freshmen for the first quarter of the school year, so the brunt of the work falls on the sophomores. I'm pretty certain that they can't wait for this year's intake, just so they aren't at the bottom of the food chain anymore, because all I do is stand in the centre of the room and point.

I send Jasper on a snack run, also to get cups and ping pong balls, absently throwing my car keys at the blond. I don't trust just _anyone_ with my orange beauty. It's a 1967 Ford Mustang that I desperately saved up for, working every summer and some weekends until I was seventeen-years-old. My dad helped me with the repairs once I'd bought the thing, and it's served me well ever since.

Well, it's outlived my dad.

"Don't spend too much," I say, handing over the fraternity's debit card to Jasper.

He rolls his eyes. "I'm the Treasurer; I think I know the budget better than you do." Even as he says it, he knows it's not true. There isn't anything to do with this fraternity that I don't know. I built my own computer program to keep track of everything. The entire house is installed with my personal software, making everything run smoothly, even when I have to go home to Seattle some weekends.

"Hurry," I say unnecessarily, and then he's gone, taking a few boys with him.

I leave Emmett in charge of overseeing the final touches, and then go upstairs to get ready. I don't like to think it but I know that majority of the people who come to our parties come for _us_. Despite the fact that we aren't even yet Seniors; we carry _weight_. Emmett is football royalty. Jasper is a baseball God. And I'm, well, that doesn't matter.

I have a quick shower, towel-dry my hair and then throw on dark dry-washed jeans and a green button-down shirt, rolling up my sleeves to my elbows. If she's coming, I have to look semi-presentable, without looking like I'm trying too hard.

Fuck, the fact that I'm even thinking any of this means that I _am_ trying too hard.

I run a rough hand through my hair. It's fine. I'm fine. I put on socks and my All Stars. Closed shoes are a must during parties like these. Cleaning the house the day after has taught me well.

Before I leave my room, I grab my phone and keys. My room is staying locked. It holds too many secrets.

When I get back downstairs, Emmett is just turning on the music. We have our own stereo system, but Tyler Crowley always manages to 'borrow' equipment from the Dramatic Arts department to boost the sound. At this point, I've chosen not to ask questions.

It's just past nine o'clock when the first people start arriving. Shortly after, the party is in full swing, but I can't fully enjoy it. Every time the door opens, I tense, my eyes constantly snapping towards whichever newcomers have arrived.

"Waiting for someone?" Emmett asks as he approaches me, eventually swapping out my empty beer bottle for a fresh one.

"Huh?"

He laughs. "Hello, earth to Edward Masen."

I look at him, and then at the beer in my hand. "Thanks," I say. I knock my bottle against his before I take a swig. It's Corona; the only kind I drink.

"What's up with you?" he asks. "You've been sitting in here all night, when you know every Delta is just _dying_ to take you to bed. Are you ignoring them all for a specific reason?"

I sigh. "Do you know if Rose is coming?"

He frowns, his body straightening to his full height. "Edward, you better not be asking me that because she's the one you're waiting for."

"No," I assure him. "It's who might be with her."

"What?"

"I met this girl today," I explain. "At the library. Rose was there."

"So this mystery girl is the reason you're shucking on your President duties?"

I take another swig of my beer. "Am I being that bad of a host?"

"Jess seems to think so."

"Fuck."

Emmett lets out a loud, belly laugh, and it jerks me to attention.

"Okay," I declare. "I'll do the rounds and, if she comes; she comes. If she doesn't, well, I'll just die alone."

His face softens. He knows something of what I believe about the future I want, based on the fact that I'm not like some of the other alcoholic womanisers living in our house. He isn't either. Well, not since Carmen. No. Not since Rosalie Hale.

Jasper's another story.

I stand up from where I'm leaning against the back of the couch in the living room. I answer his unasked question. "I barely know a thing about her, but I feel it _inside_." I know he gets it, because we once had a drunken conversation about it. It was the only time he admitted to me that he was desperately in love with Rosalie Hale, who was the only girl who wouldn't give him the time of day based on his own _previously_ womanising ways.

I sometimes think that Jasper might have ruined it all for Emmett by crossing Rose's best friend.

Emmett and I do the rounds together, chatting girls up and drinking shots. Jasper tries to get us to join a game of Truth or Dare, but that usually ends up with some girl's tongue down my throat, so I politely decline.

It's when I'm out by the pool, listening to Mike Newton tell some bullshit story about a random _sexcapade_ that the night changes. I feel it in the air, and I just know that she's here. I can't explain it, but I don't care. I barely excuse myself before I'm flying into the house. The moment I spot Rose near the front door, I make my way towards her.

"Where is she?" I ask in a hurry. Then, remembering myself, I try again: "Hey, Rosie, glad you could make it." I smile widely. "Is she here?"

She regards me for a moment, searching my face for _something_. She must find it, because she eventually tells me what I want - or don't - want to hear. "There's something you don't know, Ed - " she starts, but I interrupt.

"Is she here?" I question.

She looks conflicted. "She wanted to come," she says gently. "It was just - " she stops, unable to find the words. Her eyes dart to her left, out the door, and I just _know_.

I shove my beer into her hand, and then I'm out the front door, ignoring the sound of Rose shouting my name. I feel almost primal, and it scares me. I just know that she's out here, somewhere. She _wanted_ to come, which means something. I don't know what, and I can't even stop to think. I _have_ to see her.

I'm frantic as I search the cars in front of the house, trying to find her. It's when I hear a car door slam that I turn towards my right. My entire body relaxes when I spot her standing beside a large, black SUV. She looks so beautiful, standing there in the dim streetlight, illuminating everything about her. I just stare at her face.

It's when she cracks a smile that I take a step forward.

"What are you doing out here, Edward?" she asks, her voice filling the space between us.

"You didn't come inside. I had no choice."

Her blush is strong enough that I can still see it in the light. She glances past me towards the house. "I did come inside," she admits; "but then I had to leave. I thought I could, you know, but... I can't."

"I don't understand," I say.

"And I hope you never do."

"I don't know what that means."

She shakes her head, but then she looks at me as if she's never seen anyone like me before. Almost like she doesn't think I exist.

"Bella," I say.

At the sound of her name, she closes her eyes for a moment. "I shouldn't have come," she says. "I should go."

I step forward. "Wait." My voice cracks. "I just - will you just wait a minute?"

She puts a hand out to stop my approach. "I just started here," she says. "I didn't come for _this_. I want to work hard, get a degree and make my family proud. My life is already hard enough without adding in _everything else_." It's like she isn't even talking to me. "And then there you are with your stupid smile and your stupid eyes and your stupid hair."

I frown, absently reaching up to my hair.

She laughs lightly, before her face turns serious once more. "We can't be friends."

I want to say something clever, like we could be more than friends, but there is something truly severe about her facial expression that makes me keep my mouth shut. Instead, I just stare at her, my mind already coming up with ways that I can convince her that she's wrong.

She steps back, her hand dropping back to her side.

"Did you manage to get those books?" I ask out of nowhere.

She seems surprised by my question, or maybe it's just the fact that I've spoken at all. "What?"

"The books on the Constitution. Did you go to the Law Library? Did you find what you were looking for?"

Her head tilts to the side, as she regards me carefully. "I did, thank you," she says, sounding oddly timid. Then: "I should go."

"Wait."

She lets out an amused breath. "Edward, I really should go."

I sigh. "Will I see you again?"

"I don't think that'll be a good idea," she says solemnly. "I should go."

I want to put up more of a fight, but she's clearly made up her mind. "All right."

She smiles once, before she turns, opens the door and climbs into the backseat of the SUV behind her. She waves once before the door closes, and I stay on the sidewalk and watch until the tail lights disappear. I still don't know what just happened, but I'll have to deal with it later.

Maybe Rose can explain what's going on with Brown-Eyes.

When I get back to the house and step through the door, there are people staring at me as if I've just sprouted a third head. I move through the crowd that has stilled, heading towards the back of the living room where Emmett is standing with a somewhat shell-shocked look on his face. Rose is standing on his right, looking thoughtful, and I don't give a flying fuck where Alice is.

"What is up with you?" I ask Emmett, taking my beer bottle back from Rose and having a swig, before I hand it back to her.

"Edward," he says, his voice slightly strangled. "Why the fuck are you so calm?"

"Calm about what?"

"Bro, you were just outside having a conversation with _her_ , and you aren't even freaking out! Are you high or something?"

I frown. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"That girl outside."

"Oh," I say, smiling widely. "She's the one I was telling you about," I explain, glancing between the two of them; "the one I met at the library. I think I'm in love, seriously."

Emmett looks like I've just told him that I love _him_. Or worse: that I love Rose.

"What is wrong?" I ask, suddenly aware that people haven't stopped staring at me. "Fuck, McCarty, what is wrong?"

It's Jasper who eventually tells me what I'm missing. He comes up behind me and puts a hand on my shoulder. "It's the girl, Masen," he says, his Southern drawl more prominent now that he's had a few drinks.

"Oh," I say. "Do you know her?"

"Everybody knows her," Emmett says.

I don't know what that means. "But how? Bella's only a freshman."

" _Bella_?" Emmett asks under his breath, clear disbelief on his face. His jaw is practically touching the floor.

Jasper chuckles. "Do you seriously not know who she is, Masen?"

I shake my head.

Jasper looks sympathetic, as if to say 'you poor, poor stupid boy.' "That's Isabella Swan, Lamb Chop," he says, using his preferred nickname for me; "the President's daughter."


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two**

"Stop fucking laughing!"

Emmett just keels over again, clutching at his stomach. Jasper isn't faring much better, and both Rose and Alice are politely trying their hardest _not_ to laugh. They're failing miserably though. You'd think they would be a little more sympathetic, but obviously not.

I'm pacing in front of them, where they've all piled onto the thick couch in the basement of the house. We kicked out a few sophomores when we came down, and then Jasper locked the door so that they could all laugh at my expense, in private.

 _My friends, people._

"I can't believe you didn't know," Emmett says, sucking in a sharp breath and wheezing. "Didn't you vote?"

My eyes narrow as I come to a stop. "You know as well as I do that I was too young to vote when he was elected," I say seriously. "And plus; why the fuck would I care who his children were?"

Rose shakes her head. "I could tell you had no idea who she was at the library," she admits, still trying not to laugh. "I mean, honestly, Eddie, don't you follow the news?"

"I'm sorry if my search parameters for my news feed don't include the terms 'First Daughter' and 'Swan's Spawn.'"

Rose's face falls immediately. "Don't say that," she hisses. "Bella is a perfectly nice girl. This is exactly why she didn't want to come in with us. Everyone just presumes to know her, either from the misconceived ideas from the media or based on what they think they know about her father."

I bite the inside of my cheek to stop myself from saying something I'll surely regret. Rose is enough of a force to be reckoned with when she's using just her words, but her athletic build - a product of her intensive cheerleading - has been known to cause bodily harm to many an unsuspecting boy.

Emmett has also stopped laughing. "Tell me, Masen, do you still think she's the one now that you know who she is?"

I want to say no. I want, so badly, to tell him that I don't care about her, and I'll just stop thinking about her; but I know it'll a lie. _Who_ she is inside trumps everything. Even though I know next to nothing about that inside person; I'm determined to find out. _If she'll let me_.

My silence is enough of a response for all four of them.

"Oh boy," Alice mutters, and we all nod together.

I move to sit down in an old armchair, flopping down tiredly. I'm not sure how I'm supposed to feel about what I've just learnt, and I can feel all their eyes on me. It's as if they're expecting something, but I have nothing to give.

"That's why she said we can't be friends," I eventually whisper.

"What?" It's Emmett.

"She said 'We can't be friends,' and I didn't understand what she was trying to tell me." I run a rough hand through my hair and leave it there, gently tugging on my roots. It's a habit I developed when I was younger, that my mom absolutely hates. She's convinced that I'm going end up bald by the time I'm thirty if I keep it up.

I look at Rose. "Is it just _me_ she can't be friends with?"

"I suspect so, Edward," she says simply. "Which I won't say is an entirely bad thing." Then: "Or a good thing." She takes a breath. "It's her first week. It's probably all really overwhelming already, and then there's you, and..." she trails off, sounding unsure as to what to say. I don't blame her. This entire situation is just fucking weird.

My eyes close for a moment, and then they fly open. I'm way too young for all of this. "Fuck it," I mutter. "I need a drink."

Nobody protests as I get to my feet and go in search of something stronger than a Corona. I can't figure out why any of this is even an issue. I can't wrap my head around the fact that we all _feel_ like I've suffered some massive rejection. I mean, I spoke to the girl _twice,_ sort of.

But, even though I don't understand it; the girl still feels like she's already mine. Or I'm hers. It doesn't even matter. It doesn't feel like we would ever have to work _at_ it. Right now, it feels like we would actively have to work _against_ it, and I don't know if I have it in me to try to convince her otherwise. So it's driving me to drink.

I'm not one to get plastered drunk, and this night is no different. I drink enough vodka to get a good buzz going, but it isn't enough to forget Bella... or everything else in my life. Which is good. I can't afford to forget.

Several people brave asking me about my _conversation_ with Isabella, but my glare is enough to send them on their way. Edward Masen may be the President of Sigma Phi Epsilon, but I have it on good authority that I'm not particularly approachable. The truth is that I don't have time for the frivolities of student life. Even if I wanted to - which I don't - I have responsibilities that go beyond my duties as President, or the expectations of my degree.

Which is another reason why it's probably better that I just accept the whole 'we can't be friends' directive from Bella. She probably knows better than I do, right?

It's just after midnight when I decide to call it a night. When I announce that I'm off to bed, several girls perk up, but I'm feeling too melancholy to find it amusing. Don't they know by now that I sleep alone? I haven't admitted it to anyone but I actually haven't slept with anyone since my dad died. It isn't because of some twisted fear that he's watching my every move from wherever he is, but something else entirely.

I'm still trying to figure out what that _something else_ is.

I make sure that Emmett and Jasper are relatively _aware_ , and then I head upstairs, disappear behind my locked bedroom door and knock out as soon as my head hits my pillow. I sleep for a few hours, and wake up before the sun rises.

I have a mild hangover, and a quick _Advil_ sorts that out as I consider getting ready to face the day. Deciding that it's pointless to put on fresh clothes when the house is going to need a thorough cleaning, I leave my room.

I'm unprepared for what I find when I emerge downstairs. Now, I've woken up to the aftermath of one of our parties before, but it's never been anything like this. From what I see, the party really only started _after_ I went to bed. I doubt they were actually _waiting_ for me to head out, but I can't help but feel slighted, you know?

There are, of course, empty cups lying around, bowls of chips toppled over, suspicious stains in the carpet and couches, and an endless number of bodies passed out just about every direction I look. As I stand in the living room, taking it all in; I decide that I don't actually have the patience to deal with all of this. Not yet, anyhow. It might be my lingering hangover, my irritation with the extent of the mess or my unexplainable heartsore at Bella's misplaced rejection, but participating in this cleanup is the last thing I want to do.

Maybe I need to run.

That sounds like a good idea. I head back upstairs and change into my running gear. I haven't been running since I arrived back at school, and I think it's just what I need. There's something awfully therapeutic about it that I've never been able to find in anything else I do. It's a known fact that I'm a runner, but I've never liked the idea of turning this thing that I do into something competitive. I don't want making it a sport to ruin the appeal of throwing on my running shoes and disappearing from the world for a little while.

The only person who's ever understood that is my mother. Maybe it's because she's actually taken the time to understand, or maybe it's because she birthed me; she just _gets it_. She played tennis in college, but it never came to much. She's not bitter about it. Her life just didn't lead her in that direction and, really, I admire the fact that she still loves her life.

Despite _everything._

I definitely need whatever she's drinking.

I run nearly seven miles before I round back to the house, my chest heaving from my inability to suck in enough breath to get increased oxygen to my complaining muscles. I can tell that there's movement within the house, and I'm tempted to slip in unnoticed, but that's almost impossible when you're Edward Masen in this house.

Emmett spots me first as I make a beeline towards the stairs. He says my name, his eyes taking in my running gear. "You went running?" he asks unnecessarily.

I nod.

He looks thoughtful, his mind turning over what this response from me might mean. "Because of her?" he asks quietly.

I want to tell him no. Fuck, I want to tell him _anything_ but the truth. I want to lie.

"Edward," he says, and there's something in his tone that I can't quite figure out. He only really calls me by my first name when we're discussing something serious. Right now, I don't like it.

"I know," I reply before he can say anything else. I don't need him to worry about me like this. I've got things under control. Family. School. Bills. Appearances. Girls were already so low on the list of priorities before all of this non-drama. One specific brown beauty isn't going to change that. He had to know. I need him to know, so that he can remind me from time to time.

Isabella Swan is just a girl, and she wasn't going to change anything.

I was wrong.

I was so fucking wrong.

* * *

"Have you talked to Newton yet?"

I look up from my course reader to spy Jasper standing in my bedroom's open doorway. I like to keep my door open when I'm home, just to make myself appear a little more _approachable_ that I'm apparently not. People do stop by to discuss things with me, mainly to do with the house and things relating to the events we host, but I appreciate it all the same.

"About what?" I ask, resting my elbows on my desk and eyeing him carefully.

"Bringing Jess around."

I huff out a breath. "Why do _I_ have to be the one to talk to him?"

"You're President; it's kind of your job."

"This is so not what I signed up for, Jazz," I say. "I mean, he's a Senior... how am I supposed to tell him that his occasional hookup is a girl who makes us all incredibly uncomfortable."

"Somehow, you just suck it up and do it," he says unhelpfully. "She's a peeping tom, Edward. And she says the most inappropriate things. I mean, I'm as perverted as the next guy, but her mind..." he trails off, his eyes widening slightly. "We just can't have that kind of thing around here, and you _have_ to get it done before you go home this weekend."

As much as his forcefulness irritates me, I'm thankful that Sigma Phi Epsilon has someone like Jasper around. If not to push me to do a better job; then to pick up the slack when I fail. "Fine, fine," I say tiredly. "I'll talk to him tonight, all right?"

He nods. "I'll clear out as many of the guys as I can." He stalks into my room and then drops down onto the edge of my bed, prompting me to spin in my desk chair to face him. "Do you know what you're going to say?"

I don't even hesitate. "Stop bringing Jess around, she's fucking psychotic?"

His own laughter seems to surprise him. "Somehow, I don't think that will go down well," he says, running a hand through his thick, blond hair. I can just imagine that there will be strands of it on my comforter when I crawl into bed later. He's such a fucking shedder. "You're going to have to be tactful, but also very direct. Something tells me that he won't really _understand_ unless you spell it out for him."

This part I already know. Michael Newton doesn't see _subtle_. "I can't wait for him to graduate."

"At the rate he's going; I'm guessing he's probably going to be around for a fifth year, Lamb Chop. Maybe even a sixth."

I groan. From the sound of my hated nickname or from the thought of at least another year of Newton; I don't quite know. They're both vexing, just the same. "I swear I'll cry tears if the fucker doesn't get out of this house," I hiss.

Jasper knows how much I hate Newton. We have - well, put simply, we have _history_. It doesn't matter that he arrived before me. It really irks him that I was elected President and not him, which is something that Emmett loves to remind him about. I never show it, but it makes me insanely happy. My friends are amazing.

Jasper, thankfully, changes the subject. "What time are you heading out on Friday?" he asks.

"I'll leave straight after my Biomechanics lecture," I tell him. "My flight's at two thirty."

He looks thoughtful for a moment. "You don't need a ride, do you?"

I smirk. "Is that your not so subtle way of ensuring that I leave my car keys with you?"

He grins unabashedly, not even embarrassed that I've caught him out. "You are though, right? I mean, it would be a shame to just leave it alone, untouched, all weekend. The Orange Beauty deserves to be driven."

I chuckle. "I'll be sure to leave the keys with you, Jazz," I assure him. Then: "You should know that my mom has been trying to get me to take her Volvo."

His gasp is almost comical. "Don't fuck with me like that, Masen," he says dramatically, his hand held over his heart. "Wait until I graduate to do something as stupid as that, all right?"

"All right."

At the sound of that, he stands up and stretches. "I'm going to hit the gym," he informs me as he starts towards the door. "Oh, uh, before I forget - " he stops walking but doesn't turn to look at me " - Alice fucked Crowley."

I can't get a reading on his tone, but there's a pained quality to it. "Oh."

He jerks his head once, and then resumes his walk out of the room. I watch him go until he's disappeared, my mind spinning. Alice and Tyler? I definitely didn't see that one coming. I'd like to think that this was Alice's attempt at moving on, but it really is too close for comfort for me not to consider that she was just trying to get back at Jasper somehow.

I sigh. I have more important things to be worry about, least of which is Jasper and Alice's tumultuous relationship. Emmett and I have this bet going about them. I'm convinced that they'll eventually work it out and end up married with two point five kids. Emmett thinks they'll never work out in the end, even if they did decide to try again.

Even though Jasper hurt her in ways I'll never truly understand; Alice still seems willing to try again.

Without prompting, I think about Bella. It isn't as if she hasn't been actively on my mind since I met her, but I'm sometimes able to set thoughts of her aside and focus on my academic work. A quick glance at the clock on my wall tells me that I've been able to avoid thoughts of her for just under two hours. It's a bit of a record, I tell you, because I'm even dreaming of her these days.

With yet another sigh, I spin in my chair and return my attention to my course reader. I have an online quiz due on this particular chapter by midnight, and I'm only halfway through. I take notes as I read, using my highlighters rather generously. It helps with my kinetic learning.

I'm just wrapping up the chapter when Jasper is back in my doorway, freshly showered and looking pensive.

"I didn't forget," I say before he can get a word in. "I just wanted to finish this page, and then I'll go find Newton."

He wants to laugh. It's in his eyes but, thankfully, he doesn't. He steps into my room, his eyes full of mirth. "I'll just wait here then." He throws himself onto my bed, eliciting some painful creeks from the base, and settles with his hands behind his head and his eyes on my ceiling.

I forget he's there as I finish up my reading, before opening up the online quiz on the computer in front of me. It's only ten questions of the multiple choice variety, and I'm able to smash it out before I'm forced to deal with the drama that will surely follow my conversation with Newton. Not many people like him so I don't think the fallout will be all that bad.

And it seems that he's the only one who likes Jessica Stanley.

I kind of envision him making some kind of power play by throwing an ultimatum in my face. _If she can't come by anymore, then I'm gone_. I fucking wish. I chuckle to myself, and I'm about to mention my thoughts to Jasper when my phone rings.

It's my sister's ring tone.

I glance at the clock, doing a quick calculation. Tori only calls when something is wrong, even at eight o'clock at night. I can't help my body from tensing, and my voice it tight when I eventually answer.

"Edward." Just one word. My name. Said like that.

I can't recall anything that happens afterwards. Tori says words to me, and I say words back to her. When she hangs up, I say words to Jasper, who then gets on his phone and says words to Emmett. I think he says more words to other people, but I'm still wrapped up in the words that Tori has said to me.

 _It's Riley. He collapsed during Little League. We're at the hospital now._

The thing is that I'm not surprised by her words, yet they're still a shock to me. Riley liked to refer to himself as a ticking time-bomb. It wasn't funny, but we still laughed. If a seven-year-old could accept his own mortality, then why couldn't we?

Rose arrives at some point. I don't think I've moved from my position in my desk chair, but there's movement all around me. I vaguely think that it's rather amazing that Emmett could call her, and she would come. Perhaps she's warming up to him. Or maybe she came for me... after all, I'm probably the only Sig Ep who hasn't tried to sleep with her at some point.

Emmett eventually hoists me up and puts his hands on my shoulders so that I am looking at him.

"It's not the end," he says strongly. "Riley's a fighter, all right? He probably just did all of this to get you to go home sooner." He risks a smile, but I don't react. "Alice managed to move your ticket. Rose packed your bag. Jasper's going to drive you to the airport, and I'm going to take care of Newton, okay?"

I think I nod. Maybe I even say something because, the next thing I know, we're on the move. I slowly come back to myself during the drive. I think it's Jasper's presence that finally allows my shock to wear off. He has this uncanny ability to keep people calm; I don't know what it is. He allows me to have my silent freakout because, like me, he knows that once I'm on that plan back to Seattle; I'm going to have to be the strong one.

Ever since my father died; _I've_ been the one tasked with holding everyone together. It's hard enough doing it when I'm in the State of Washington, let alone in Illinois. To this day, I'm wondering why my family even let me leave the State. They practically forced me to go.

And now look what's happened.

Jasper goes with me as far as the airport will allow, and then I'm on the plane and on my way West. I spend the entire flight _thinking_. I don't know how long I'll have to be in Seattle, but I can worry about that at another time. I have friends back in Chicago who will make it all right that I'm missing. And I have family in Seattle who will make sure that I miss the least number of days.

I rely on all of them for certain things.

My mind won't stop me from thinking that they all rely on me for _everything_.

* * *

In the end, I end up spending six days in Seattle, which is three days more than I intended. Jasper attends my Immunology lecture on Monday, and signs my name when the register goes around the lecture hall. Emmett searches through my desk for my Wave Theory tutorial, rewrites it, and hands it in for me.

My friends, people.

Jasper is the one to pick me up when I land at O'Hare. The Orange Beauty is looking cleaner than when I left, and I find it really funny that Jasper takes better care of my car than I do. During the drive, he asks questions about Seattle's weather until I'm uncomfortable enough to just blurt out what he's dying to know.

"It's definitely back," I say, my voice hollow. "His most recent PET Scan confirmed it."

Jasper nods thoughtfully. We'd already discussed the impending Scan on the phone two days before.

"They've been watching him carefully, testing every twenty-eight days." I run a hand through my hair, my eyes watching the buildings as they fly past through the window. "It's bad, Jazz. Peter's freaking out, and I don't know what more I can do."

Jasper doesn't say anything for a moment. Then: "I think that you're doing all you _can_ do, Edward."

"Which is?"

He slows the car down slightly, his eyes darting my way before they're back on the road again. "Let's say, just for a moment; it was you in Peter's shoes... What would you expect from you, as your own little brother?"

"Nothing," I say automatically, and I mean it. If I were Peter, I wouldn't want to put all of this on him.

But, because we are who we are; it wouldn't matter what he - or I - _wanted_. We're family, and nothing else matters. Jasper understands that. Hell, even Emmett understands it, though they both _never_ talk about their own families.

Sometimes I get the impression that they live vicariously through mine.

My mom is their mom. I swear sometimes that she talks to Jasper on the phone for longer than she talks to me. I don't mind it all that much, to be honest. My mom is so great; it would be unfair to keep her all to myself. As much as I sometimes want to.

I feel a flash of irritation at Jasper's reasoning about what I'm doing to lessen the burden of my brother's sick son. Why the fuck does everything make sense when he's the one coming up with the words?

Jasper changes the subject, switching to something else I'm not entirely sure I want to talk about. "Bella was at the Lambda Chi Luau on Saturday night," he tells me, and it's a good thing he's telling me _now_ , instead of while I was in Seattle. I didn't need the distraction of a girl who doesn't even want to be my friend while I was with my family. "She seemed surprised that you weren't there. My guess is that she needed a neutral setting to deal with whatever the fuck the two of you have going on."

"There's nothing going on," I'm quick to say. "Literally. Nothing. This entire thing is a non-issue, all right? She's just a girl." I say the words, but I know he can hear the lies in them. Bella is more than just a girl, and I've spoken to her only, what, twice in my lifetime.

My ridiculous brain decides that this person that I am wants to spend the rest of my God-forsaken life talking to her.

* * *

Settling back into my routine after a visit to Seattle has never been as difficult as it is this time. Emmett had that talk with Newton, and he always stares daggers at me, as if I kicked his puppy in the face. Really, what the fuck is his problem?

But it isn't only Newton.

It feels like, everywhere I go, people _know_. Whether it's the fact that there's a very real possibility that my nephew won't live to reach double digits, or that I'm the boy that the first daughter has spoken to _more than once -_ people fucking stare.

Even in the library. Which is supposed to be my escape; my salvation.

But now it's an endless whirlwind of _sound_. It's that annoying kind; the one that isn't loud enough to deserve a talking-to, but still loud enough to grate on my nerves. It never used to be like this, but now it is. And it's Bella's fucking fault.

She apparently likes _that_ table that she first sat at _that day_. She sits there nearly every afternoon. I don't work every afternoon, but I hear from the other students who work in my Wing that she usually shows up, without fail, with different people in tow. I'm guessing that she's probably too nice to decline people's offers to sit with her. Maybe she's looking to make friends with as many people as she can.

Just not me then.

I try not to pay much attention to her, but sometimes I feel her eyes on me. And, really, who do I think I'm kidding; I stare at her sometimes: the back of her, her side profile. Jesus. She's beautiful. I entertain the idea that it's all some illusion. I want to think that she's this truly horrible person who doesn't deserve a second thought, but even the deepest cynic in me can't manage it.

Her smile is too sincere, and her eyes are too warm. Her laugh is too musical, and the way she hates being the centre of attention is terribly endearing. I see the way she deflects compliments; the way she always pulls other people into the conversation. She always looks genuinely interested in hearing about other people and their lives. There are just some things that can't be faked, and the genuine warmth in her captivating eyes is one of those things.

None of it is making it any easier to accept that she doesn't even want to be friends with me.

So I just watch her.

I watch her until, one afternoon, she's just _there_ , standing in front of my counter the way she did that first day; that first day when she claimed a piece of me without either of us even realising it.

I can tell she knows I know _who_ she is. It's in her eyes, and she looks something akin to terrified; maybe even bashful. I want to say something reassuring but the words won't come. If she's terrified, then what does that make me, because I sure as shit am not brave when it comes to things like this.

We could let this be it, but I don't want that. It's the last thing I want, but I don't know if I'm allowed to tell her something like that.

"Looking for a book?" I ask, risking my voice. It comes out as more of a croak, but I can tell that it still manages to relax her enough to take a step forward, her bottom lip caught between her teeth. Why does she have to do that? I'm struggling enough as it is.

"I actually know how to use the self-service thingy now," she informs me, looking rather smug about it.

"So you're just here to see me then?" I ask, raising an eyebrow.

It takes a moment for a smile to spread across her face, as if she's hesitant to allow herself to show me whatever she's feeling. "Oh, don't flatter yourself," she says in a teasing tone, her nose crinkling slightly, and I can't help my grin. I'm lost; gone... entirely. She owns me now.

"No matter what you say," I tell her; "Consider me thoroughly flattered."

She lets out a small laugh, before her face takes on a serious expression. "I just, well, I wanted to find out how you are," she says carefully. "Rose told me that you went home, and I," she hesitates. "Just, how are you?"

I blink a few times, trying to wrap my head around exactly what she's asking me. "Did Rose tell you _why_ I went home?" I ask softly. I don't want her to be here because she feels sorry for me. I don't want anyone's pity, least of all hers.

Bella takes another step towards the counter, her eyes never straying from my face. The great big world could be falling apart around us, but I wouldn't know. Nothing exists besides her. I'm aware enough to acknowledge just how dangerous that is, but I find that I don't care.

"Not exactly," she assures me. "Just that you go home sometimes, for family reasons. I swear I don't know what that means, and I'm not asking you to tell me. I was just, umm, worried about you because, well, you weren't at the Drive on Sunday, or the Luau on Saturday."

She says so much in her little monologue that I'm completely floored for a solid twenty seconds, my brain struggling to process. Really, it's amazing to think that I got a 2310 on my SATs with the way I'm just staring blankly at this perfect girl.

"Edward?" she prompts when I've been silent for too long.

"I'm fine," I blurt out, cringing slightly. "I mean, _I'm_ fine," I repeat, gentler. "A bit jet-lagged, maybe, but the week is almost over."

If she notices that I actively don't mention my reasons for going home, she doesn't mention it. "Well, that's good," she says kindly. "Are you sleeping well?"

Can she tell just how weary I am? Can she see that I haven't slept for more than four hours at a time since I got on that plane to Seattle? "Uh, most of the time," I lie, and her kinked eyebrow is enough to tell me that she doesn't entirely believe me. "Okay, not well enough," I confess. "But that's expected, right? I have a lot going on, and I'm in a constant state of stress. Not sleeping well kind of comes with the territory, doesn't it?"

She tilts her head to the side in thought. It takes her a moment to decide on a response. "I suppose it does come with the territory," she finally says. "Though you should definitely try to get more sleep. It wouldn't do to burn yourself out so early in the semester."

I just stare at her. What is happening right now? "You're being awfully _friendly_ ," I say, knowing that my words have the potential to ruin whatever we're doing.

I _do_ ruin it.

Her face falls, and she takes a step back, looking a little lost for a moment. "You're right," she says, and then she walks away.

I fucking let her.

* * *

It isn't until the middle of October that the Bella situation really starts to get me down. I think that I convinced myself that she would eventually come around and now, four weeks into the quarter; I'm considering the fact that I'm wrong.

Maybe she doesn't feel it: that undeniable pull; that unexplainable connection. Maybe she doesn't feel the urge to stare at me the way that I have to stare at her.

I mainly see her in the library, but I do see her out and about sometimes. Ever since we last spoke; she's made a point of not looking at me. It bothers me, of course, but I can't help but think it's a little childish. This entire 'staying away' thing is getting old really quickly, and I have half a mind to call her out on it.

And say what exactly?

Her Secret Service people would probably straight up murder me if I so much as raised my voice.

Imagine being the guy who called the first daughter childish. Would I even live to tell the tale? Would I even want to?

Sometimes I think about what would have happened if I hadn't said the stupid thing to cut short our last conversation. In my mind, we would have reached _that_ point eventually, so I don't wallow too much. But then I like to entertain the idea that we could have talked for hours. Maybe I even asked her to get coffee. Dinner.

It's useless. Bella has made it clear that she doesn't want anything to do with me, hasn't she? She doesn't look at me, but I know she still does. She smiles sometimes, and it confuses the hell out of. She doesn't want to be my friend, right?

I start to believe it, until I just _don't_.

Because, there she is again, standing in front of my counter in the library, for everyone to see. I think she likes that there's a physical barrier between us, as if she can't be certain what either of us will do if there isn't one. I _know_ what I would do, but I don't want to get shot.

"What can I do for you?" I ask, my tone a mixture of disdain and friendliness. Truly, I don't know how I manage it. It just sounds painful to my own ears.

She presses her lips together, clearly in thought.

"Bella," I prompt. "What do you want?"

Silence.

"Bella," I say a little more forcefully.

"You're not sleeping."

I bristle. It's none of her business. Why does she even care that I can't stay asleep for long periods, because I'm terrified that I'll miss the phone call that tells me that Riley isn't responding to treatment?

"Edward?" she prompts this time around.

I frown. "What do you want?" I ask again.

"I just want to know how you're doing."

"But doesn't that count as being friendly?" I point out, because I'm a little confused. Look at me, don't look at me. Talk to me, don't. I get a headache just thinking about it.

"I only said that it'd be better if we weren't friends - "

"Actually," I cut her off. "You said we _can't_ be friends, Bella. So, tell me, which one is it? Because, really, your mood swings are starting to give me whiplash."

She sighs heavily. "It _would_ be better, Edward," she says. "You don't know the kinds of things I have to deal with on a daily basis, and I don't want you to have to know. But…"

"But what? What, Bella? What do you want from me? Seriously."

"I am tired of trying to stay away from you."

I take a step back and bump the stool behind me, clearly thrown by her words. I definitely wasn't expecting to hear her say _that_.

"I mean, our friends are friends, and it gets awkward, doesn't it? I just - look, I don't know how to do any of this, and I've sort of resigned myself to being some kind of pariah for the next five years of my life. The last thing I want to do is drag some poor, unsuspecting boy into the torrential downpour of a life that comes with being the daughter of a politician."

"I'm a big boy," I tell her.

She shakes her head. "You don't understand."

"Then explain it to me," I press. "I promise I can handle it."

"You say that now," she counters. She looks like she's fighting some kind of internal battle. "But what about later? What happens when the day comes that you _can't_ handle it? Because it'll happen, Edward. I've _seen_ it happen, and I'm definitely not strong enough for the day you realise that I'm not worth everything you'll be put through."

"Impossible."

She shakes her head again, more vigorously this time. "Words mean nothing," she says tensely, and I realise that she's speaking from experience.

"Believe me, Bella, I know that," I say, because I _do_ know. Words mean _nothing_. "But all I have right now are words. I mean, who's to say that we'll even like each other if we go on a date? We might not even be compatible. I mean, I hate olives. What do you think of them? But answer wisely, because this could change things."

She looks stumped, as if she's unsure whether to laugh or reprimand me for trying to distract her. Then she says something that completely throws me. "I'm not going to sleep with you." She says it in a rush, and it seems to catch us both off guard.

I burst out laughing.

Her blush takes over her entire face and - oh my God - she's this beacon, and I'll forever be drawn to her.

"Okay," I say.

"Okay," she echoes.

"Friends," I say.

There's only slight hesitation, and then she smiles brightly. "Friends."


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter Three**

Bella doesn't allow me to ask for her number.

She gives me her email address instead, writing it down on one of my bright pink _Post-It_ s. I watch her as she writes, her left hand printing in tiny capital letters. I don't know why I find her handwriting so fucking fascinating, but I do. It's print, nothing loopy about it, and I think that it's just another thing about her that I find pleasantly surprising.

Her email address makes me suppress a chuckle, once she hands it over. It's one of those dorky, adorable ones that she insists she made when she was eleven-years-old so, really, I'm not allowed to laugh. I pretend I don't believe her, and she keeps trying to convince me until my smile takes over my entire face.

"You're mean," she finally concludes.

We don't talk much after that, and she returns to her table, leaving me with a stupid, goofy grin on my face. I don't know what I've just signed myself up for by deciding that I'll be just her _friend_ , but I'm thinking that it's better than nothing, right?

It has to be.

Right?

I text Jasper, telling him that he had better be home tonight. I've got a lot of shit to talk about. I reckon I'm the only one who really puts his Psychology Major to the test. We help each other out, you see?

When my shift ends, I pack up my things and wait for Jessica to arrive. The moment I spot her, I get the feeling that she has something to say to me, but I don't stick around to find out. I'm usually quick with my exits anyway. She can be fucking scary when she's on one of those back-you-up-into-a-corner moods. I should know. She's done it before.

Sometime in our sophomore year, she trapped me in a corner and demanded to know if I was ever going to ask her out. In the end, I told her I had a girlfriend, which didn't deter her _one little bit_. No morals in that one.

From the library, I head to the football fields. The team doesn't practice in the actual stadium all that often. They practice on one of two practice fields, which are also used for the games of the football festival that our university holds the weekend just before Thanksgiving; when we all come out and freeze our asses off just to support our team. Well, I come only for Emmett. I couldn't give a shit about the rest of the team. Newton included.

The bleachers aren't empty when I arrive. They're littered with groups of girls who've come out, hopefully to get the attention of some of the players. I find it a little sad, but I'm inclined to reserve judgment. To each his - or her - own, right?

I look for an open spot, hoping that nobody will bother me, when I spot a familiar head of blonde hair. I almost squeal. Okay, not really... But, if I were the squealing kind; I probably would have. I maneuver my way through the many girls, and drop down next to none other than Rosalie Hale.

Her eyebrows shoot up when she recognises me, and then she laughs nervously.

"Don't you say anything," she warns, and I dramatically zip my lips closed and throw away the key. She rolls her eyes in response. "Oh, I'm in for it now, aren't I?"

I shake my head, and hum a little, still refusing to speak.

"He asked," she goes on to explain even though I haven't even say anything. I pretend that I'm not interested in whatever she's saying. "He just called me up, said he was headed to practice and asked if I wanted to come. I would have said no; I really would have, but Alice is being really fucking annoying lately. That whole thing with Crowley was just stupid - I tried to tell her - and now all she does is mope around. It's like she found out that Jasper cheated all over again."

She's rambling, and I find it so fucking funny.

"I hate you, you know?" she finally huffs.

My smile is so wide, I'm surprised my face hasn't split in two. "Hi, Rosie," I say.

"Fuck off."

"Ooh," I sing-song; "do you kiss Emmett McCarty with that mouth?"

"Among other things," she says, her eyes twinkling slightly. It's odd to see it on Rose, who's normally very stoic, reserved even. I decide that I like this side of her; this side that doesn't seem against showing me that she's embarrassed or possibly in love with a boy she vowed she wouldn't give the light of day.

I bump her with my shoulder. "So, let me get this straight... Emmett calls, asks you to come watch him play, and you just do?"

She presses her lips together before she nods.

"And you didn't even bring anything to occupy yourself with?" I ask. "These things are fucking boring, you know?"

"Oh, I know that now," she says drily.

"Never fear, Miss Hale," I say dramatically. "Edward Masen is here!"

She snorts - and it's still in a truly lady-like manner, it's so baffling. "And what exactly are _you_ doing here?"

"Oh, I'm Emmett's ride," I reply easily. "And we've got house stuff to discuss before our meeting with the committee next week."

Rose shakes her head. "It's times like these when I'm so glad I remained in Res. I think I'd drive myself crazy in a Sorority."

"I didn't really much of a choice," I remind her, and she just nods in understanding. I'd probably still be in a Residence Hall if all the shit that is my life didn't happen. In the end, it's just cheaper for me to live in a Chapter House. And, given all the other growing expenses at home; I need to save all the money I can. "But I guess it's not that bad. It's kind of nice, this brotherhood or whatever you want to call it. We can rely on one another."

Rose turns her head to look at me, her eyes deep and knowing.

Before she can say anything, I speak up. "Thank you," I practically blurt out. "For, umm, when you came over that night. Thank you for all you did."

She places a comforting hand on my knee. "Any time you need anything, Edward; you just let me know, all right? Em and Jazz may be your _brothers_ , but that doesn't mean you don't have me, and Alice." She blinks once. "And, I suppose, Bella as well."

I frown.

"She asks about you a lot," Rose tells me, her eyes drifting back towards the field where Coach Clapp has just blown his whistle to signal the start of another play. "I reckon it's only a matter of time before she, well, _gives in_."

"She already did."

Rose's eyes snap back towards me. "What?"

I nod. "Gave me her email address this afternoon. We're going to try to be friends."

She slaps my forearm. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"I just did."

Another slap, harder this time. I even grimace. "As soon as you got here, you idiot!"

"Because it was too funny watching you squirm," I say, blinking slowly. "And I guess I'm still in a state of disbelief. I mean, I don't even know what happens now. I doubt that she'll ever want to hang out with just me, so I don't really think I've accomplished anything."

"I reckon you've accomplished a lot," she counters gently. "This way, you can actually get to _know_ her, even if it is electronically. It's better than nothing. You have to believe that."

"I do. I really do. It's just, I don't know - it just doesn't feel like it's enough."

"It's probably all she can offer right now," she says, her eyes taking on an understanding quality, and it makes me think that she and Bella have discussed all of this at length. I take back whatever I said about Rose being a mentor to Bella. Clearly, it's a good fit. Though I'll never ever admit that. The blonde would get way too much satisfaction out of it.

We spend the rest of the practice talking about nonsensical things. We have an actual debate about which song is the best one from Ed Sheeran's _X_ album. Rose claims it's _Thinking Out Loud_ , but I'm sticking with _Photograph_. It's literally a non-contest. How can't she see that?

We talk about the once planet of Pluto, and we discuss the Smithsonian Institute, and how the Shuttle is no longer in use. She knows much more about it, of course, seeing as she's studying to be an aeronautical engineer. We even trade some of our most awful pickup lines.

Really, why can't the football practice just fucking be over already?

When Coach Clapp blows the final whistle and dismisses the team, Rose and I are having a Thumb War. It's a good thing too because she's kicking my ass. Having the bigger hand means nothing apparently. Her thumb is so nimble, and so evasive.

We look up when Emmett approaches, standing down on the grass in front of us. "Oi, Masen," he says, laughing loudly. "Hands off."

Rose and I exchange a knowing look, but I do release her hand and turn my attention to the pile of muscle who is still in his uniform. "You keep going on like that, and I'm going to leave you here," I threaten.

"That's fine," he counters immediately. "Rose will take me home."

"Like hell I will," Rose starts, getting to her feet and placing a hand on my shoulder. "Really, Emmett, please _never_ make me sit through another one of these things again. I think I might have ended up eating my own hair if Edward hadn't turned up."

Emmett isn't exactly sure how to respond to that, so he doesn't.

I laugh. "Em, just go hit the showers, all right? We'll be out here when you're done, because you sure as hell aren't getting into the OB looking like that." My eyes widen slightly. "Jasper will kill us both."

Emmett hesitates, his eyes darting from me to Rose. "You aren't really leaving, are you?" he asks softly, and the air seems to leave Rose's body.

"Of course not," she says, sitting back down.

Emmett throws her the kind of grin that vibrates through her entire body, and I can't help my smile.

Rose makes a point of _not_ looking at me. "Shut up," she says, as we watch Emmett hurry away.

"I didn't even say anything."

"Well, you're not saying _anything_ really loudly."

And all I can really do is laugh.

* * *

.

 _ **From: Edward Masen (edwardamasen)  
** **To: Isabella Swan (phoenixgirl44)  
** **Subject: This Email Address**_

 _Dear Bella_

 _You have to tell me more about this phoenixgirl44 email address you've got going on here. And Hotmail? Seriously?_

 _You have to tell me. I'll die if you don't. This is not an exaggeration._

 _Edward A. Masen_  
 _Chapter House President_  
 _Sigma Phi Epsilon Fraternity_

 _P.S. Now that we're friends and all the good stuff that comes with that, does it mean that I get to tell you that I think you are beautiful?_

.

My work suffers as I wait for a reply from her. I don't allow myself to worry that it will always be like this; that I'm probably going to be spending the rest of my good-for-nothing life just _waiting_ for a response from her. It's a sad thought, but I don't think I'll change what is happening right now.

I agonised over what to write to her in my first email. I didn't want to overwhelm her with _me_ , so I tried for something light. Makenna once told me that I was intense and, at the time, I didn't think it was all that frightening to a teenager.

But Bella _is_ a teenager. She said it herself. She's _just_ starting out. She barely has her own life figured out. And me... Well, I have a lot of shit in my closet. Starting _anything_ with her would be monumental. Jasper and Emmett know this. Hell, even Rose knows it too. I've been so focused on school and my family for so long that I doubt I'll be any good at this whole _being friends_ thing. Particularly when the girl could possibly be _the one_.

Eventually, I force myself to close my _Outlook_ App, and get down to my work. I have a Latin functional email to write. And, really, as useful as the language will probably be to my future career; it's deathly boring. And our professor, Embry Wolf, literally puts me to sleep. It's a problem, really, because there are like seven of us in his advanced class, and he can _see you_ when you start nodding off.

Should have stuck with French.

Maybe Spanish. Or even Italian. My mom told me that a boy who can speak a foreign language is sexy. I'm not sure that she had Latin in mind though. Word origin is interesting and all, but I doubt I'll ever _speak_ it.

I'm elbow deep in trying to conjugate the verb 'to win' when my phone chimes. I immediately know it's an email, and I hope it's from Bella. I sigh. Chances are, it's something from one of my courses. Probably a reminder about some assignment that's due next week or something.

I psyche myself down enough that I'm convinced I won't be _that_ disappointed if the email isn't from Bella.

But it is.

My breath hitches. Okay. Okay. I'm fine.

Edward, you're fine. Will you calm the fuck down?

I open the email.

.

 _ **From: Isabella Swan**_  
 _ **To: Edward Masen**_  
 _ **Subject: Under Normal Circumstances...**_

 _Dear Edward_

 _A girl has to maintain some form of mystery about her, you know? And you didn't even say 'please.' Where are your manners?_

 _But then again, if you're threatening me with your mortality, I have no choice, do I? We don't want you dying or anything equally dramatic. Hmm, let's see... I was born and raised in Phoenix. I'm a girl; go figure. We lived on 44 Maple Lane. It was home. My favourite place on earth._

 _Naturally, it all came together rather nicely. Now stop with all the judgment. I can practically feel it through my screen._

 _What does the 'A' stand for?_

 _Bella_  
 _I-Don't-Have-Some-Cool-Moniker-Like-You-Do_

 _P.S. Absolutely not. Are you blind?_

.

My laughter surprises me. It escapes before I can even finish reading the email. I can already tell that I'm definitely in for it with this one. I could come up with several monikers if she just allowed me to.

I strongly suspect that she doesn't see herself clearly, but I decide that now isn't the time to convince her of _what_ I see; just that I _do_ see it.

I hit reply, and change the subject line. I think I know what I want to say and, for once in my life, I'm not going to overthink it. I shouldn't. I'm sure Bella wouldn't want me to, and I really don't want to either.

So I just start to type.

.

 _ **From: Edward Masen  
** **To: Isabella Swan  
** **Subject: Life-Saver**_

 _Dear Bella_

 _Thank you! (HERE are my manners.) You have, indeed, saved my family from heartache. We are forever indebted to you._

 _So I really am dealing with a Phoenix girl, huh? What's your favourite part about Arizona (despite the obvious, of course: HEAT)? I've never been. And I've never actually considered going. Forgive me when I say that it hasn't really seemed all that appealing to me until now._

 _Have you ever been to Seattle? That's where I'm from, by the way._

 _I promise there's no judgment from me. If you're nice to me, I might even reveal to you what my first email address was. I won't say that it's as bad as yours... though I'm convinced that you'll still get a real kick out of it._

 _It's 'A' for Anthony. It was my dad's grandfather's name. I have Italian blood in me, apparently._

 _Edward A. Masen_  
 _Chapter House President_  
 _Sigma Phi Epsilon Fraternity_

 _P.S. Blind? That is a hard negative. Believe me when I say that I'm seeing very clearly for what feels like the first time in my life._

.

I don't have to wait that long to receive a second response from her, and then a third, fourth, and so on. I imagine her sitting somewhere, reading my words and smiling like I know I am right now. I imagine her turning over her responses in her head before typing her words. _Her_ words. I'm talking to her, and it's amazing.

We trade emails back and forth as the night goes on. We don't talk about anything of extreme importance. In fact, I think it's the fact that our discussions are so light, so airy, that makes it all feel so easy; so fucking right.

It's the post script that we reserve for the _extra_ stuff. I wouldn't go so far as to call it flirting, but it's definitely something more than friend-speak. Truly, I think she just loves the fact that I'm having a real conversation with _her_ , and not her father's daughter.

She bids me goodnight just before midnight, while we're in the middle of discussing why I hate mushrooms as much as I do. She loves them, apparently, and she jokes about that being the number one reason why we'd never work out in the long run.

I don't know how to tell her that none of this is a joke to me without coming across as _too much_. We're supposed to be friends, right? So I sign off my last email with the sole intention of letting her know that mushrooms mean _nothing_.

.

 _ **From: Edward Masen  
** **To: Isabella Swan  
** **Subject: Fungi Say What?**_

 _Dear Bella_

 _Goodnight, my dear Miss Swan... Sleep well and dream sweetly. I shall talk to you tomorrow._

 _Edward A. Masen_  
 _Chapter House President_  
 _Sigma Phi Epsilon Fraternity_

 _P.S. You should know that, Bella, now that I've met you; even wild mushrooms couldn't keep me away._

.

* * *

"What has you smiling like that?"

I look through my lashes at Jasper, as he watches me in turn, over his bowl of cereal. "Smiling like what?"

"Like _that_?"

I ignore his question. "What are we doing for Hallowe'en?"

Jasper raises his eyebrows as he regards me curiously. It must be odd for him seeing me like this. I _feel_ odd and, truthfully, I also feel a little guilty. Here I am, feeling all kinds of happy things about what transpired with Bella last night, while my family has to deal with Riley's diagnosis.

Before I can take myself down that winding road, I remember that my family would want me to have this. This respite; this goodness that allows me to forget that my entire world sometimes feels like I'm just teetering on the edge of something truly devastating.

"What do you mean what are we doing for Hallowe'en?" he asks, allowing me to deflect his question. "Aren't the Deltas throwing some big costume party?"

I already know that I probably won't go. Or maybe I will. Bella would probably feel more comfortable if she were unrecognisable behind a disguise. It's definitely a thought.

"It's weird that you're even thinking about it," he points out. "Do _you_ have plans you'd like to share with the class?"

"I don't," I say, and it's the truth. I _want_ to have plans. With Bella. But the chances of such a thing happening are truly minimal. I know that I need to accept it, but I just can't bring myself to do it.

I stand up and take my own cereal bowl to the kitchen sink. I'm quick to wash it and set it down on the drying rack next to the sink.

Jasper eventually stands up as well. "Is there something you need to talk about, Masen?" he asks, moving to stand by my side. "I mean, we never did have that chat you seemed desperate for last night. Is everything all right?"

I glance around, very aware that there are eyes and ears everywhere. "I never did ask," I say; "what exactly did Emmett say to Newton? The guy's been death glaring me since I got back."

Jasper presses his lips together, obviously trying not to laugh about something.

"What?" I press. "Seriously. What did he say?"

"Well," Jasper begins, washing his own bowl as I step to the side. "Emmett may or may not have insinuated that the only reason Jessica was even bothering with him was because she was trying to get into _your_ bed."

"What!"

Jasper chuckles.

"Fuck, Jasper; this isn't funny," I exclaim. "The guy looks like he's plotting ways to kill me in my sleep."

"Make sure you keep your door locked."

I must look incredulous. "Are you fucking kidding me right now?"

Jasper just shrugs.

I sigh. "If he does end up killing me, tell my family that I love them."

"You are so fucking dramatic, do you know that?"

It's my turn to shrug. Newton must know by now that I'm not interested in Jessica. At all. I literally avoid her like the fucking plague. How daft must Newton be to think otherwise? All right. I know. Stupid question.

"What time do you finish up today?" he asks me.

"Four thirty. Why?"

He doesn't respond.

I reach into my back pocket and hand him my car keys. "Please don't have sex in my car."

"I would never," he says quickly. Fast enough that I'm inclined to believe him. I swear the guy loves my car more than he loves food. And Jasper Whitlock _loves_ his food.

"Please don't leave my tank empty again," I warn.

He huffs. "It was _one time_. Jesus. Cut a guy some slack, won't you, Lamb Chop!" Then: " _Let it go... Let it go..._ " he sings, channeling Elsa from _Frozen_.

I cover my ears, and beg him to cease the torture. He can't sing for shit.

When he does eventually stop, I relax. "You should know that I'm never going to let you forget," I tease as I saunter out of the kitchen and climb the stairs to my room. A quick glance at my watch tells me that I have just over half an hour to make it to my Biochemistry lecture. I quickly pack my bag, grab my phone, wallet and student card, and then head down to the Shuttle Stop.

While I'm waiting, I check my email. I apparently have a meeting with our Chapter House director during lunch. That's new. I also note that the new trailer for the _Avengers_ movie has come out, and I make a mental note to watch it on _YouTube_ when I have more free time.

There's an email from Bella. It was sent earlier this morning.

My heart flutters as I open up the message.

.

 _ **From: Isabella Swan**_  
 _ **To: Edward Masen**_  
 _ **Subject: Mushroom Dreaming**_

 _Dear Edward_

 _Good morning! How did you sleep? Well, I hope._

 _Thanks to our topic of discussion last night, I dreamt of mushrooms. It was more of a tower of mushrooms, if I'm being honest, and I had to climb to the top for some very important reason that I'm unable to recall, but I do know that it involved you in some way. It was a matter of life and death... and there was a lot of fungi. It was serious stuff._

 _I hope you're having a great day so far._

 _Bella  
_ _Conqueror-Of-Mushroom-Towers_

 _P.S. Wild mushrooms can possibly be a psychedelic, Edward. So... my bet's that you won't even know if you were coming or going._

 _._

I don't get the chance to reply because the Shuttle arrives, so the congregated group shuffle on and we try to squeeze as many people in as we can. It's stifling and hot, but we all have somewhere to be. All the full Shuttles are probably one of the reasons why I'm so looking forward to the freezing temperatures that are headed our way. When it's too cold; people generally don't tend to leave their warm rooms, which leaves the Shuttles just full enough.

I'm praying for rain. A fucking hailstorm, for all I care.

My first two lectures of the day fly past, and then, finally, I have time to reply to Bella. I don't spend too much time thinking about what to say. After the entire painful thought process that went into sending her that very first email; I want her to know the real me, behind all my well-thought-out words.

.

 _ **From: Edward Masen  
** **To: Isabella Swan  
** **Subject: My Heroine**_

 _Dear Bella_

 _Good morning to you too! I slept. It was better than most nights, so I'm not going to complain._

 _Are you_ trying _to make me cry with all this mushroom talk? Truly. I mean, if you're so keen for fungi and what not, you should definitely stop by the food market at the Biscuit Mill. I think you'll go a little mental when you spot the fungi stall. And perhaps the donut stall as well. There's also this stall that makes waffles to die for. Seriously; they even put bacon in the mixture. I mean, can you even imagine...?_

 _If you don't end up going yourself, or with, uh, Angela; I'll take you, all right? Good. Deal._

 _Thank you for protecting me, even if it was in a towering dream. You're my heroine. Let me have your babies._

 _I hope you have an equally amazing day as well. I'd like to hear all about it_

 _Edward A. Masen_  
 _Chapter House President_  
 _Sigma Phi Epsilon Fraternity_

 _P.S. I'll definitely be coming, Bella. I can assure you._

 _._

I panic a little as I send it off. This perilous friendship status of ours gives me anxiety. I'm likely to say or do something wrong; maybe push too hard, and then she'll just pull back completely and it'll all be over before it really even begins. It scares the crap out of me, but I'd rather _know_ than keep pretending.

Right?

If I keep thinking it, then I'll eventually believe it.

At some point during the day, I mention to her that I have a nephew, his name is Riley, and he absolutely adores Spider-Man. Like, it's an obsession. I think that we've watched the Tobey Maguire Trilogy something close to forty times. I'm the only one with enough patience to sit with him through them all. Andrew Garfield is his favourite though, even though I'm convinced he'll warm up to Tom Holland rather quickly.

The both of us geeked out proper when we heard that our favourite superhero was going to be in _Captain America: Civil War_. I probably even shed a tear. Okay, so I don't admit _that_ to her, but it's still something important.

Bella surprises me by asking me when Riley's birthday is. I think, at that point, I should have known that she had something planned. If I ever tell Jasper and Emmett how much of a dumb fuck I am; they'll probably end up rolling on the floor.

I manage to forget the Riley/Spider-Man conversation even happened for a few days. She was quick to get us talking about other things anyway, but I'm forced to remember when Angela, Bella's roommate, turns up at the library during my late Thursday afternoon shift and approaches my counter. She has a long, rolled up _something_ in her hands, and she's twisting it nervously.

"Hello, Angela," I say brightly, trying to ease the obvious tension in her body. "Anything I can help you with?"

That seems to jerk her into motion, and she thrusts the roll towards me, poking me in the chest.

I feel it in my left pertoralis major muscle, but I manage to keep the grimace off my face. "What's this?" I ask, ignoring her flurry of apologies for attempting to impale me. "A poster?"

"It's from Bella," she blurts out. Then: "For Riley."

I frown in confusion. "Did she say why?"

"Isn't it his birthday soon?"

I chuckle in disbelief. "It's in March."

"Well, it's a good thing that Bella thinks ahead." Then she laughs. " _Way_ ahead."

I blink. "Do you know what it is?"

She shakes her head, before adjusting her glasses with the lower palms of her hands, shifting them at the sides. "All I know is that it arrived all cloak and dagger this morning, and she was pretty much bouncing in excitement. It must be something pretty cool."

I look at the roll in my hand before I look back up at her. "Uh... As lovely as it is to see you, Angela; do you mind my asking why Bella didn't give this to me herself?"

"I was wondering when you were going to ask," she huffs. "Took you longer than I originally thought, I'll give you that."

I shrug. "I'm slow."

"I doubt it."

I raise my eyebrows expectantly.

"I offered," she eventually says. "She's still struggling to come to terms with... _everything_. And, frankly, I think you scare her."

I frown.

"Not in a bad way," she's quick to add. "Though, you know, not in a good way either. It's complicated."

There's the understatement of the century. I smile at her. "Well, uh, thanks for the delivery," I say. "I'm sure, whatever it is, Riley's going to love it."

"You're welcome," she says brightly, before she turns and leaves. I watch her for a moment, suddenly insanely jealous that she'll be able to _see_ Bella today, and I just have email conversations with her. It just doesn't seem fair.

With a heavy sigh, I remove the elastic band holding the roll in place, and then open it up to reveal a movie poster for _Spider-Man: Homecoming_. In the bottom right-hand corner is a short message, dedicated to Riley, signed by Tom Holland.

I wish I could say that I didn't squeal, because I did. Shit. I'm turning into a squealer. Riley is going to lose his fucking mind when he sees this.

Just then, I have a horrid thought, but I can't stop it when it floods through my mind: at least Riley will die happy.

I bite the inside of my cheek so hard that I'm not surprised by the taste of blood. Fuck, I deserve it. How dare I even think things like that? He's going to survive. He's going to win this battle like he did the last one. It's all going to work out. Our family isn't going to suffer another loss.

I have to be able to save _someone_.

The poster is staring up at me, and it works to rid me of my spiralling thoughts. Everything falls into perspective for a moment. Riley will love this. It'll make him smile. He'll be so happy, and that's really all that matters right now.

I have to believe it because, otherwise, I'll probably drive myself into the ground if I don't.

The rest of my shift goes on without incident, and then I'm headed home. The poster is tucked under my arm, and I'm just grateful that it's not raining right now. Of course, being from Seattle, I'm used to the rain. I'd even go so far as to say that I love it, but I'd probably cry mercury if anything were to happen to this poster before I can give it to Riley.

I doubt I'll even be able to explain to Bella just what this poster means to me. I don't think I can speak for Riley but, if I'm halfway to freaking out; I can only imagine what he's going to feel when I finally give it to him. I'll _never_ be able to hold out until his birthday, so I'm aiming for Christmas. It's going to be a mission and a half to talk to him on the phone and not blurt it out at every opportunity.

Jasper and Emmett are in Jasper's bedroom when I get back to the house. I can't possibly walk past the open door without showing them the poster, let alone greeting them. Jasper, of course, understands how big of a deal this is, and shows exactly the right amount of enthusiasm, while Emmett looks on in amusement.

"Explain yourself," I say.

"I'm more of a _DC_ guy."

Jasper chucks a pillow at him. "I call bullshit."

"It's Batman," Emmett exclaims. "Seriously. It's Batman. He's a fucking badass."

There are no arguments there, but that means nothing.

"So, you said that Bella organised this for Riley?" Jasper asks, looking thoughtful as he rolls the poster back up. "That's awfully... nice of her."

He sounds skeptical and, to be perfectly honest, so am I. What does _this_ mean? Does she just do these kinds of things for everyone, or am I different? Is it really because of Riley? Does she possibly know?

No, she can't possibly know. But, then again, her father _is_ the President of the United States of America. I doubt there's much she couldn't find out if she really went looking. I imagine that, if she did find out; then she had to know that Riley's chances of survival have dropped dramatically.

Maybe she's giving this to me now because she doesn't think that Riley will make it to his birthday.

"Masen?"

I snap to attention, to spy Emmett's eyes on me. He looks curious, even concerned, and I'm worried about what I might have done or said if it makes him look like that. His face is normally so relaxed, so open, but something is different in this moment. His worry is written all over his face.

"What?" I ask.

"Do you really think Riley won't live to see his next birthday?"

Shit, so I did say that out loud. "I don't know what to think," I eventually admit, allowing my weariness to seep into my tone. I really am fucking tired. This whole not sleeping thing is getting really old really fast. "He just went through his first round, you know, and I hate that he has another three to go." All of which I somehow need to help pay for.

Our Chapter House started a Riley fund the last time he got sick - the second semester of my freshman year - which was passed around at every opportunity. When he was declared to be in remission; we all celebrated like we'd all made it happen and, you know, I like to think that we did.

This time _feels_ different though. This time... feels like _it_.

"It's okay that you don't know what to think," Jasper tells me; "but just don't think _that_."

I just nod numbly, taking the poster from him and then I head to my own room. It's not quite a mess, but it's definitely been cleaner. I set the poster down on my desk, make sure my phone is in my pocket, and then fling myself onto my bed. Today has been a long day, and I could really use a good sleep.

Even as I fish for my phone, I know it isn't going to happen. All this talk about Riley just depresses me. And terrifies me. I just _know_ there's a phone call coming. It'll come, and then it'll be over.

I open my Email App, and pull up Bella's contact. I don't know what to say to her besides thank you.

So I type.

.

 _ **From: Edward Masen  
** **To: Isabella Swan  
** **Subject: Forever Grateful**_

 _Dear Bella_

 _Angela is officially my new favourite person. You really hit the jackpot in terms of roommates, I reckon. You should have seen the guy I was stuck with when I first arrived. He looked like he was legitimately twelve-years-old, and not in a good way, might I add._

 _So hold onto Angela. She's a Keeper._

 _As for her delivery. I have no words. Just, thank you. Thank you! (My manners are out in full force today). I truly appreciate it, and I just know that Riley is going to go bat-shit-crazy when I give it to him. You're amazing for doing this. I don't even know what to say._

 _I'm forever grateful._

 _Edward A. Masen_  
 _Chapter House President_  
 _Sigma Phi Epsilon Fraternity_

 _P.S. If it's your intention is to ensure that I don't fall in love with you; you're failing miserably._

.

And then I fall asleep.

* * *

I wake up to a reply in the middle of the night. I'm disorientated and the screen of my phone is bright against me bleary eyes. I'm amazed that I slept at all.

But, as soon as I open her reply; I'm convinced I'll probably never sleep again.

.

 _ **From: Isabella Swan  
**_ _ **To: Edward Masen  
**_ _ **Subject:**_

 _Edward_

 _I can't do this. I thought I could... but I can't._

 _I'm sorry._

 _Bella_

 _._

Yep.

Too far, Masen; _too fucking far_.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter Four**

And, just as quickly as my friendship with Bella comes to life; it sizzles out just as fast.

It hurts. I can't even be sure exactly _what_ hurts, but it's almost paralysing. It's so difficult to remember how easy things were before I decided to push too much. It wasn't as if she wasn't clear about where she stood. I sigh. Is this what the friend zone is? Am I just one of those guys who can't accept it?

Fuck my life.

I don't respond to her last email, mainly because I don't have a fucking clue what to say to her. Can't do what? I mean, what do I even say? Am I supposed to convince her that she _can_ do it? Do I tell her that I was just kidding? That I'm not already halfway to being completely and utterly in love with her? I really don't want to lie to her, but I also don't want to lose her. It's a dangerous tightrope I'm scaling here.

So I don't reply.

That first day without her emails is just a day of fucking disorder. The wind blowing outside is chaotic, and my heart won't stop pounding in my chest because, suddenly, she means so damn much to me. It's insane. I've gone insane.

I need Jasper to tell me that I've gone completely and clinically insane. It's the only explanation for my outlandish thoughts. I barely know this girl.

But I _do_ know her, don't I? I just - I understand her... Which is why I can't bring myself to be mad at her for her last email. If she's feeling anything close to what I'm feeling right now; she probably shouldn't have let it go on for as long as she did. I'm ruined now. She's claimed me and, so long as there's even the slightest chance of us; I shall forever remain hers.

Who knew a movie poster could create such a mess?

We don't talk for four days, and it _kills_ me. I feel like a piece of me is missing whenever I check my email and _Isabella Swan_ doesn't show up. It's pathetic, I know, but I can't help it.

It definitely doesn't help with my already-erratic sleep patterns.

So it's an exhausted, irritable, miserable Edward Masen who finally gives in and emails her. I don't ask any questions about why she _can't_ anymore, but I do want some answers. I deserve answers.

 _ **From: Edward Masen  
** **To: Isabella Swan  
** **Subject: Hallowe'en**_

 _Dear Bella_

 _I don't really know what's going on, but I reckon that we should probably talk. The Deltas throw a costume party every Hallowe'en. I think that the disguises will make it easier to have a conversation._

 _This isn't it. I don't want this to be it. Please just meet with me and we'll talk._

 _How does that sound?_

 _Edward A. Masen_  
 _Chapter House President_  
 _Sigma Phi Epsilon Fraternity_

 _P.S. I said please._

.

 _ **From: Isabella Swan**_  
 _ **To: Edward Masen**_  
 _ **Subject: Hallowe'en**_

 _Dear Edward_

 _Okay. I can do that._

 _Bella_

.

* * *

Bella doesn't tell me what she's wearing for Hallowe'en. She allows me twenty Yes-Or-No questions to figure it out, but I don't really bother wasting them on her possible costume. Instead, I ask her about lots of other things. Like, has she ever ever licked an ice sculpture and got her tongue stuck? Or, has she ever knowingly eaten food that was expired?

They're as random as they come, but I really want to know _all of it_. I want into Bella's mind, and I'm willing to do everything I possibly can.

I even go so far as to ask her if she has any stuffed animals. Surprisingly, she tells me that she does. His name is Finley, and he's a dolphin that her father gave to her when she was eleven. She makes sure to let me know that it was _before_ all of the President stuff; before he became more than just her dad.

I get the feeling that she wants to tell me things, but she's probably worried, or scared. I can only imagine what it must be like to look at everyone in your life and wonder if they are actually being friendly towards you because they like you or because they want something from you.

I haven't seen Bella since Angela dropped off the poster, and I think it's by design. The library has quieted down now that Bella isn't sitting at her usual table in _my_ Wing anymore. I don't know if I'm relieved or not. I _want_ to see her, but I also don't at the same time. I miss her. I don't even know how it's possible, but I do. I desperately do.

Jasper and I talk about it. He isn't exactly _helpful_ , but I think it helps me to discuss everything that's been happening with someone, and who better than the budding psychologist himself? I feel like I'm a little boy whenever I talk to him; like he's quietly judging me. But he understands me, in ways that Emmett doesn't. In ways I sometimes don't even understand myself.

We talk about Bella, and we talk about Riley. Once, we speak about my mom, which makes us talk about my dad. I don't really like talking about my dad, but I appreciate the fact that Jasper doesn't allow me to forget. It'd be a shame to forget, as much as I sometimes want to.

When Hallowe'en finally rolls around, I'm a basket of nerves. I'm generally a calm guy, sometimes coming across as disinterested - though Jessica Stanley can't take a fucking hint - but something about tonight has me on edge. Bella is going to be there. I'm going to talk to Bella.

Jasper, Emmett and I head out just after nine o'clock. There's no point in taking the Orange Beauty. The house isn't that far away, and we're all going to be drinking. Because Jessica is a Delta, I know they'll have _Corona_. I remember that one time they didn't, and I just _had_ to leave. They've never made that mistake again.

I'm a fucking asshole sometimes.

As for Jasper and Emmett's costumes; everyone else's guess is as good as mine. They've coordinated somehow, talking about some Anime show that I haven't watched. I don't have much time for normal series, let alone the animated kind. They look pretty fucking cool though, and I reckon they're enjoying having to explain themselves every time someone asks them who they're dressed as.

The Delta house is packed when we arrive, and we have to squeeze through the front doors. Emmett makes a bee line for wherever Rose might be, but I know she's not here yet. If Bella isn't here, then Rose isn't either. For some reason, they're friends. I mean, I like Rose. In fact, I'd call her one of my closest friends, but it's just odd knowing that she's friends with Bella. They're just so different... Or maybe they're not. I can't explain it.

My stupid romantic brain sometimes entertains the idea of Jasper, Emmet and I spending the rest of our live with Alice, Rose and Bella.

I'm a fucking comedian.

I'd like to remain anonymous, but arriving with Jasper and Emmett kind of gives me away. It's no use pretending I'm not Edward Masen behind my mask; people were going to figure it out anyway. I just hope that Bella has a little more sense than I do. If anything, I'm sure that Rose will be logical about the whole thing.

Jessica makes sure that I get my _Corona_. _I_ make sure that it's closed when she hands it to me. I wouldn't put it past her to dose me with something. She's anything but committed. I think that she won't allow herself to leave college until she gets in my bed. I'm pretty sure she's been here longer than Newton has.

Okay, now I'm just being petty. I grab another beer and head outside to the pool where a few people are playing beer pong and attempting to remember the lyrics to _Gangsta's Paradise_. The fresh air does wonders for me, and I'm able to remain distracted until... well, until Bella gets here.

I feel it in the air when she arrives; like that first night at our party. I can't explain it, but I just _know_ that she's here. I'm less of a madman this time around though. I _don't_ go barrelling into the house, though I do walk briskly. Even though I don't actually know who she's dressed up as, I spot her immediately. Maybe it's the fact that she's already looking at me, I don't know; but I do know that it's her. Without a doubt.

I'd like to say that I'd know those brown eyes anywhere, but they're hidden behind her mask. It's the way she's standing that gives her away. Even though I haven't actually spent a lot of time _with_ her, I would still recognise that body, standing the way that it is, just about anywhere.

Bella's costume isn't surprising. If I _had_ to hazard a guess, I probably _would_ have gone with a _Power Ranger_ , mainly because I've noticed that she has this thing for secret identities. Perhaps it's just the thought of being able to live a normal life, to some extent, that draws her in. Just not to be recognised.

I move towards her at the same time that she starts her cautious walk in my direction. We sort of meet in the middle of the main living room, and I'm grinning like a crazy person under my mask. I'm glad she can't see.

"I was convinced that if you'd ever have to choose, it'd be pink," I say teasingly, eyeing her _Power Rangers_ getup appreciatively.

"To be perfectly honest," she says, obviously knowing it's me behind the mask; "the Green Ranger was always my favourite."

I merely nod, filing away that new piece of information for another time. "Is your favourite colour green then?"

She shakes her head. "It's purple, actually."

I regard her for a moment. To be perfectly honest, I can't actually see Bella liking purple the way that she claims. Believe me, it's nothing against purple. She just seems... I can't explain it. I guess it's just one of those nights, because there seem to be a lot of things I can't explain tonight.

"What's _your_ favourite colour?" she asks.

"It has to be red," I declare. "Or green. Maybe blue... No, definitely red."

She lets out a small giggle. "Is that your final answer?"

Even though I can't actually see her, I'm so fascinated. There's just something about being in her presence that is so disarming, and I never want to go home ever again.

"Is it red because of _Spider-Man_?" she asks, eyeing my costume.

I chuckle. "Actually, no, it's not," I inform her. "It's because of my dad."

"Is it also his favourite colour?"

I blink. Oh right. She doesn't know that my dad's dead. I haven't told her. "Umm, well, no," I say. "He used to have this old red tool box, you see? One of those that fans out when you open it, with all the layers." I watch her nod. "When I was little, he used to take us out into the garage and let us 'help' him rebuild the engine in his old _Corvette,_ which, incidentally, was also red."

I know I'm doing us both a disservice by not being explicit about the fact that my dad is gone, but I really don't want to talk about _that_ part of my life tonight. I'd rather wait until it's completely necessary. If I'm being really critical, I'd wager that I'm not telling her because I don't want to tell her that I might actually hate her father. Or, rather, his policies.

"Do you want a drink?" I ask, eyeing her empty hands.

Bella also glances down. "I do," she says; "but I probably shouldn't. My prison guards should be around here somewhere, and they're not against reporting back to my father about my behaviour."

I raise my eyebrows, but I don't comment. She _is_ underage. It _would_ be breaking the law. "So just that talk then, huh?"

"It's the only reason I came," she says, and I believe her.

I lead the way back outside. On our way, I drop off my _Corona_ and retrieve two cans of _Red Bull_. If Bella isn't going to drink, then I won't either. I want to remember every moment of this night anyway, and being inebriated won't help with that.

We sit down cross-legged on the grass of the small slope on the other side of the pool, facing away from the house. It's quieter this side, and there aren't many people around. She's close enough that I can feel the heat of her but we're not touching. I tell myself that I won't touch her, but I can already feel my willpower waning. She's right here. It's so tempting.

"Does your dad still have his _Corvette_?" she asks once we're both settled.

The rest of the world seems to fall away completely, and it's just the two of us. "He gave it to my brother when he turned sixteen," I tell her. I don't tell her that we were forced to sell it last year. It damn near nearly broke my fragile heart.

"I'm a sucker for old classics," she says, thankfully moving the conversation on. "I was just learning to drive before, umm... well, let's just say that I haven't been allowed to drive since my dad was elected. I can't even roll down the windows."

"That's no way to drive," I comment.

"You're telling me." She sighs dramatically, before she takes one of the cans of Red Bull from where they're perched between my legs. My breath catches when she grazes my thigh, but I don't think she notices. She doesn't open the can immediately. "There was this old, beat-up, completely faded orangey red truck that I bought from my dad's best friend. A 1953 Chevy. I loved that thing."

I can't see her face, but I imagine she looks nostalgic, even wistful.

"I learned how to drive in it, can you imagine? It was literally a big pile of junk, but it was _awesome_. I mean, nobody really cares what it looks like as long as the radio works. And the air-con, I suppose. It _was_ Phoenix."

"Where is it now?" I ask.

"The Beast? Oh, it's with Bonnie."

I don't say anything, even though I'm a little confused. I have so many questions. I want to know _everything_ , but I'm guessing that it'll be a good idea to pace myself. Don't want to scare her away or something like that.

She opens her can, shifts her mask out of the way and takes a large gulp of the liquid, before quickly sucking in a breath. "This stuff is disgusting, by the way." Then: "My dad promises that we'll go back to the way our lives were _before_ , when his term's over."

"He won't run again?" I ask.

"I suspect he will," she says, her voice barely audible. "It doesn't even matter though. There's no way our lives can go back to the way they were. It's impossible." She drinks some more. "I just want to be able to drive my truck, you know?"

I wish I did, but the truth is that I don't. "I have the largest cap collection on the West Coast," I say, practically blurting it out.

She looks at me. "What?"

I laugh nervously. "I collect caps," I say. "Whenever I go somewhere new, or if anyone I know goes somewhere; they bring me back a cap. I have _a lot_ of caps."

"How many is a lot?"

"How many would make me completely obsessive?"

"More than five hundred."

Oh, I'm definitely not responding now. I don't want the girl of my dreams to think I'm obsessive.

"Edward, no?" she says, shifting her body to look at me, and I almost pass out from the way she says my name. Fuck, it should be illegal for a girl to have a voice that wraps around my name like that. "More than five hundred?"

I nod. "It's a big collection."

"How many?"

"I'm not sure."

"Liar."

I laugh. "Fine, I _am_ sure, but I'm not going to tell you."

"Why?" she whines adorably, and I swear I want to give her everything I possibly can in this great big world.

"I can already feel your judgment."

"The way you judged my phoenixgirl44 email address?" she shoots back, and I grin manically.

I decide it's best to change the subject. "Do you miss Phoenix?" I ask.

"Every day," she says softly, her voice sounding far away. "It was a much easier life back then."

I remain silent, just waiting.

"I mean, Charlie was always a politician," she continues. "It's his life's vocation to help people, and he's always done it well. I just don't think that he or my mom really knew what they were getting us into when they decided that he would run." She lets out a long sigh. "Don't get me wrong, it isn't like they didn't discuss it with us. But, I mean, how do you even say no, Dad, you can't uproot us all in search of your dream? It'd've crushed him."

I just nod.

"It was easier for my brothers, I think," she says. "They're older, and they're boys. I've found that it's different for first daughters and first sons."

"You're also kind of the baby of the family," I point out.

"I see you did your research."

I'm so thankful for my mask right now. My ears are probably as red as my costume. "Emmett might have given me the entire family history when he was done laughing at me after he told me who you were... In fact, I think he still has a good chuckle about it."

She makes a sound that takes me a moment to recognise as laughter.

"Not you too?" I groan.

She moves her hand to cover her mouth, but the mask is already there. It seems that the action only makes her laugh a little harder, and it sounds like music to my ears. "Edward, you have to admit that it's a little funny."

I can't even think when she says my name, let alone agree to bogus admissions.

Her laughter eventually tapers off, and she takes another gulp of her drink. I watch her neck as she swallows, my heart rate rising dangerously. "So you have one brother?" she prompts.

I blink rapidly, coming back to myself. "Uh, yeah, and one sister."

"Older? Younger?"

"Peter is older than me by, uh, seven years," I tell her; "and Tori is younger by four. She's a senior in high school this year."

"Ooh," she sounds; "is she planning on following you here?"

I don't know how to answer that without... well, without possibly crying. "I don't know," I say, finally deciding. "She's her own person, that one. She'd probably just make decisions to spite me, and go somewhere completely different."

"She sounds like my kind of girl."

I smile because, yeah, Bella and Tori would probably get along. "Is that why you picked Chicago?"

She mulls it over for a bit. "It's far enough from D.C. to be comfortable, but not too far that my parents think I'm running away," she says. "For a while there, I actually considered UCLA."

My eyes widen. If she'd gone there; I probably would never have met her.

"But I reckon my dad would have had a myocardial infarction."

I don't know why I laugh. It's just that she sounds so serious, and so playful, at the same time. "Most people would just call it a heart attack," I point out.

"I'm not most people."

Of that, I am all too aware.

"And you're doing pre-med," she points out; "I thought you'd appreciate it."

"Thank you," I say.

"You're welcome." She lifts the can to her lips again, shifting the mask upwards, and I'm mesmerised. She drinks until the can is empty, coughs once, and then sets the little aluminium cylinder down on the grass. "It really is an awful drink," she says. "My throat is burning."

"Should I check you for wings?"

"By all means."

A shiver shoots down my spine. Oh, Bella Bella. Just what are you doing to me?

She doesn't allow me to do anything though, because she reaches for the second can of _Red Bull_ that's still between my legs, and she does more than graze my leg this time. Her forearm practically presses against my hamstring.

"You aren't going to drink this, are you?" she asks.

"I actually brought both cans for you," I force out, my voice sounding slightly strangled.

"So kind," she teases.

I watch her carefully as she opens the can and takes a good gulp. It's easy to tell that she hates the taste of the drink, so I'm a little baffled as to why she's still drinking it. I imagine that she has a truly rebellious side, but she keeps it well-contained. My instincts tell me that she's resisting the urge to rebel with me. As in, I would be the thing she _uses_ to rebel, but she's _not_.

Does that mean that she cares about me?

Or she doesn't.

Fuck, I hate this.

Bella sips some more of her drink, before holding the can out of me. For a moment, I just stare at it. Her lips have touched that can, and she's offering it to me.

I take the can, shift my own mask upwards and take a swig. "God, that _is_ awful."

She laughs. "It is... but I kind of like it."

I hand the can back to her. "It definitely grows on you; I'll give you that."

Bella bumps me with her shoulder, her tone turning serious. "I'm sorry about, uh, my silence," she says. "I freaked out a little, and I really am sorry about that."

I don't know how to respond to that.

"The thing is, Edward, that we _can't_ ," she says. "I can't, and you can't."

"Can't what?" I question.

Her head turns away from me, and I resist the urge to touch her chin to make her look at me. I wish I could see her eyes. I want to know what she's really thinking.

"Bella?" I prompt. "Talk to me. Tell me what you're so afraid of."

Her head drops, her chin coming to rest against her chest. "I don't want to hurt you," she whispers.

"I don't know what that means."

She takes a deep breath. "I'm deeply aware of the fact that I'm living in history, Edward," she says. "It's a lot of responsibility and it's not anything you need."

"Isn't that my decision to make?"

"No, it's not." Her voice is stern. When she lifts her head, I feel the weight of this moment. _This_ is the moment where we make a big decision. "My mom always tells me that I should surround myself with people who lift me up; people who make me better." She leans towards me slightly. "I believe you are one of those people."

"Then I don't see what the problem is," I say.

" _I'm_ not one of those people; not for you," she whispers. "This person that I am right now, Edward, with all that I carry with me, will only bring you down."

I remain silent, mainly because I don't know what to say. I don't know her nearly well enough to dispute her claims accurately enough, but I can't help myself. "That's not true," I say immediately. "Do you know what you've already done to me? There's no going back now."

She shifts away from me. "Don't say things like that," she hisses. "Edward, you can't say things like that."

"But I mean it, Bella."

"I can only be your friend," she says. "That's all I can offer you."

I should accept it. I should just take what she offering but I still shake my head. "Bella?" I practically plead.

"Edward."

I sigh. "Give me the _Red Bull_."

She hands it to me and I gulp it down until the can is empty. Without thinking, I throw it across the grass, before I stand up.

"I'm going to get another one," I say, and then I stalk into the house. I'm irritated with her, and I'm annoyed with myself. This evening is not going to plan. I just can't decide if _friends_ is all I can handle.

Does it make me a terrible person that I would agree to it just to convince her that we _can_ work well together? I _want_ to be with her. In more than _just a friend_ way. I'd be lying if I said that I was okay with just being her friend. I don't want to lie to her, but I don't want to go through days where it's as if I've never met her.

I grab two cans of _Red Bull_ from the kitchen, and take a swig from an open bottle of vodka. God, that's good. I think that I need it to get through the rest of this night, because I'm sorely tempted to close the gap between us and kiss away all her worries. It's probably a good thing that we're both wearing masks.

Bella is lying flat on her back on the grass when I get back, her eyes focused on the stars above. I wish that I could see her face. I think maybe I should apologise to her, but I don't. Instead, I move to lie down next to her, closer to her than before. Our arms are even touching.

"The city is terrible for star-gazing," she says after a while.

"It is."

"It's even worse than D.C." She sounds defeated. "I don't really feel like I live there," she says. "It feels a little bit like a prison. My entire life there is controlled, and I'm never allowed to be alone."

I turn my head to look at her.

"Are you mad?" she asks, her gaze also on me.

"Are you?"

She reaches for my hand and squeezes it tight. I'm surprised when she doesn't let go, but her grip if so gentle; I can barely feel it. She's holding my hand. She's holding my hand.

"Okay," I say.

"Okay what?"

"Friends."

"Are you sure?"

"Are you?"

She releases my hand.

I sigh. "I'll try, Bella," I tell her; "but I don't know how good I'll be at it. I'm going to try, so you can't just disappear on me if I step over whatever line you've decided to draw between us. You have to _tell_ me if I've done something wrong first, okay?"

"Okay." Then: "It's better this way."

"For who?"

"For you."

For the first time since I met her, I consider that she might be right.

* * *

Jasper doesn't wait for his hangover to pass before he asks me how my night with the Green Ranger went. To be perfectly honest, I'm not entirely sure _what_ to tell him. Bella and I had our discussion, and then we just stopped talking about all the serious stuff.

It's easier to talk about _everything_ else.

Even Riley.

Okay, no, that's a fucking lie. I'm confused about Bella but I'm fucking depressed about my nephew.

Maybe it's safer to focus on school, and on work... but even that's somewhat soul-crushing. I feel like all I'm doing is complaining these days, and I've never wanted to be that type of person. My mom would hate that I'm becoming this person.

Is Bella making me this person? Have I always been this person?

The first week of November brings with it the _cold_ cold. Oh, it's my favourite time of year. It's not really much to do with the holiday season fast approaching, but I think it's the weather. I'm a Seattle boy, so I love the cold and the wet. One has to learn to, otherwise every day would be depressing in the State of Washington.

So I _love_ November. It's probably the best month of the year, as far as I'm concerned.

And it isn't even my birthday month.

As part of our reaffirmed friend status, Bella and I text - because friends have each other's phone numbers - continuously. Constantly. About anything and everything. Random and serious. We have about a million conversations running at any one time, and it's the best distraction I can ask for.

For little bursts in my day, I'm allowed to forget everything that's happening at home, and everything that's expected of me here. I have school to worry about, and I have bills to pay. It's always been difficult, but this third year is sucking the life right out of me, but Bella makes it a little better.

I can practically feel the exhaustion in my bones. Bella points it out whenever she sees me, which, incidentally, isn't all that often. We're _better_ when we're not actually in the same room. The world could practically explode, and we wouldn't notice. It's proven to be a problem, and I think it'd be torturous for us to be in the same room and not just _be_. Whatever the fuck that means.

"Lamb Chop?"

Jasper's voice rips me from my musings, and I look up from whatever textbook is open on my desk. I don't even know what time it is.

"Where's your phone?" Jasper asks me as he casually leans against my door frame.

I don't have a clue. "Uh..." I search through the various pages on my desk until I finally locate it. One press to the Home Button, and I know it'd dead. "Fuck."

"Your mom called," Jasper says, sounding amused. "We had a nice chat, Esme and I."

My head snaps towards him. "Are you...? Did you...?" I stammer. "Fuck, Jazz, did you tell my mom about Bella?"

He raises his eyebrows for a moment, before he bursts out laughing. "Honestly, Masen, I don't know why you haven't told her yet."

"Told her what exactly? What am I supposed to tell her?"

Jasper rolls his eyes. "Honestly, sometimes it's like you _place_ the entire world on your shoulders."

I feel a flash of anger. He _knows_ what I go through.

When I don't respond, he continues. "Just call your mom. There's something she has to tell you."

That piques my interest. "What?"

"Call your mom, Edward."

When he leaves, I do just as I'm told. Well, first I have to plug my phone in to charge, and then wait the seventy thousand years for it to turn on. The moment that my service kicks in, my phone lets out a flurry of sounds: text messages, _WhatsApp_ messages and emails.

I ignore everything in favour of calling my mom. I miss her.

She answers on the second ring. "Edward," she breathes, and I can just imagine her holding back a reprimand. "Jasper tells me you're not sleeping."

Holding back, my ass. I'm going to kill Jasper. _Has something to tell me_ , my ass. "Mom," I grumble.

"Tell me what's wrong, baby."

I grit my teeth. "How are _you_ , Mom?"

"I'm perfectly fine," she says quickly. _Too_ quickly.

"Mom?"

"It was a better day," she says. "Riley and I went to the park today. We had a great day actually."

"What did you do?"

She breathes out, and I can't help my smile. "Well, we had a small picnic, actually," she informs me. "He got tired quite quickly though. His energy levels aren't what they used to be."

"And you?"

"I'm a spring chicken, Edward."

"I miss you, Mom."

She must hear something in my voice, because her own tone drops a notch. "I miss you too, sweetheart." Then: "Are you sure you're okay?"

I'm definitely not okay, but I'm also not _not_ okay. "Mom, I'm just under a lot of stress right now. I'm sure that I'll be fine though. Just taking it one day at a time."

"You'd tell me if you weren't okay though?"

"I'd probably tell Jasper," I tell her, because I don't want to lie to her.

"And then he'd just tell me," she teases with a healthy laugh, and the sound warms my insides in a way that only she can.

I laugh with her, merely enjoying this moment. Then I say something fucking crazy: "There's this girl."

"Oh?"

I close my eyes. "We're just friends," I have to add, because it's an important distinction. "She's something special, Mom, and I can feel myself falling deeper and deeper every day."

My mom squeals. Oh, so _that's_ where I get it from. "Does she have a name?" she asks.

"She does."

She laughs out loud. "And?"

"Her name is Isabella," I say. "Well, she likes to go by Bella."

"Is she pretty?"

"She's beautiful."

My mom is silent for a moment. I don't know if she can hear the affection in my voice, because her teasing tone is gone when she finally speaks again. "Is she good to you?"

I don't know if I can answer this question honestly, so I just repeat myself from earlier. "She's something special, Mom."

Mercifully, she doesn't ask for more about Bella. Instead, she talks about my siblings, gushing over how cute Tori is with her new boyfriend. _That_ makes me uncomfortable. I really don't want to hear about my sister's love-life, but I reason that it's still better than talking about mine.

When she yawns, I draw the conversation to a close. She needs her rest. Once I've bid her goodnight, I sift through all the messages I've missed, most notably one from Bella.

 **Bella: I had a staring contest with a squirrel today. I'm ashamed to say that I lost.**

I can't help the laughter that escapes from me. Truly, this girl is so special. How can I even entertain the thought that she's been anything other than good to me?

 **Edward: Oh, only you, dearest Bella... By the way, I think you should know that I told my mom about you.**

Her reply comes moments later, and it makes me chuckle. This girl is too much sometimes.

 **Bella: Oh my God! What did you tell her? Was it bad? She hates me, doesn't she? Why would you do that?**

 **Edward: I told her 'things.' She knows that you're beautiful. Couldn't skate around that one, I'm afraid.**

 **Bella: Edwaaard! Just what are you trying to do to me?**

I have the crazy idea of telling her that all I'm trying to do is _love her_ , but I have a feeling she won't handle that very well. I've told myself not to push. I think I'm doing an all right job of just being her friend, and now isn't the time to force it.

When I reply, it's something close to what I truly want to say.

 **Edward: Oh, Bella, you must know by now that all I'm trying to do is make you happy.**


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter Five**

Emmett and I have to meet with our Chapter House director four times during the second week of November. Normally, I'm fine with meeting Professor Ephraim Carter at the agreed-upon times, but it's Emmett's anxiety that makes it all uncomfortable. With the upcoming football festival quickly approaching, Coach Clapp has doubled up on their practices and Emmett is _stressed out_.

We normally meet with Ephraim roughly twice a Quarter - beginning and end - but clearly he has other plans for us this year. I don't think that he understands just what we have to do on a daily basis. It's as if he thinks we don't have our own lives to live.

The man has questions about the budget, about our expected intake when we get into the new year, about house maintenance, about the dynamics of the boys in the house, and so many other things that make me think that there's probably more going on here than Ephraim would like us to know.

Because, if I'm being perfectly honest; he seems _very_ interested in me and my performance as both the House President and as a student. His questions are so probing that even Emmett notices.

"Me thinks that it has something to do with Bella," Emmett mentions to me as I drive him from the main campus to football practice.

I think it too, but I'm curious to find out his reasons. "Why do you say that?"

"I mean, think about it, Masen; it'd make sense that the Secret Service people or even the President checked you out, you know? You _are_ spending time with the first daughter. They'd be remiss not to do some kind of background check on the middle Masen."

I sigh. "But to question my Professors; isn't that a little extreme?"

"She's the President's daughter, Masen," he says. "I don't think there's such a thing as 'extreme.'"

"So you reckon they know?" I ask. "Do you think _she_ knows?"

Emmett shrugs. "I don't know, man. Has she said anything that makes you think she does?"

"There's a lot about me that she doesn't yet know," I admit. "I haven't even told her that my dad is dead."

He turns to look at me, and I can practically feel his eyes on me. "Bro, that's not okay. You have to tell her."

"I know."

"The next time you see her, Edward."

I just nod, my jaw clenching. He's right, of course. I've put it off for too long. I'm sure that I'll be able to tell her that he's dead without actually telling her how. Or _why_. There's too much to the story. There's too much to tell, and I'm not sure that I want to.

After I drop Emmett off, I head back to the house. I know he's right. It's one thing to want some kind of relationship with Bella, and then not even tell her some of the more important things about my life. But how am I supposed to tell her? How do I even bring it up without telling her _everything_ else?

Ephraim's given us work to do, with regards to the events we'll be holding to bring in a fresh set of freshmen when we get back from Christmas Break. Like most Chapter Houses, we hold events before we break up as well, just to give the kids something to think about when they go home, and so discuss with their parents. It's the best time to get them hooked.

Our expected intake isn't that high. I mean, we don't have _a lot_ of space, though our freshmen are usually okay with sharing rooms. The political climb is rather quick in here, if you know what you're doing. I can attest to that, really, because I'm a Junior, and the Chapter House President. I also have the best fucking room.

To be honest, I'm a little on edge about the questions Ephraim was asking me. Frankly, if Bella's people have questions about me; all they have to do was ask.

I work until late. Or _early_ , depending on how you look at it. The truth is that I don't think that I'd be able to sleep, even if I tried. I'm due a visit home, and I think I'm planning for Thanksgiving, but school is being a bitch. Our exams are probably going to screw me over, at the rate I'm going.

In the end, I fall asleep at my desk, and it's the sound of Jasper banging on my door that jerks me awake.

"Fuck," I hiss.

"You've got class in twenty minutes!" Jasper yells through the door, and I'm up. _Definitely_ up. I don't waste any time. I jump in and out of the shower, brush my teeth, and then I'm running to class. I'd be an idiot to think I can find parking in this mess, and the Shuttles are going to be too fucking full.

I make it to class with fifteen seconds to spare. Our lecturer raises his eyebrows when I fly in, but nobody says anything. I find a seat near the back and just pray that I can get through this day that already feels like it's going to be one of _those_.

Somehow, I manage it, and I even arrive on time for my shift at the library. Mrs Cope offers me a timid smile, and then leaves me to my musings. If I think it's weird that she's not trying to engage me in conversation; I'm not about to complain. I'll welcome the silence after the whirlwind of a day I've just had.

But Bella is here, so there isn't much quiet to go around. I'm halfway to stalking over to the tables with people who clearly _aren't_ here to work and telling them to get the fuck out, when my phone vibrates in my pocket.

It's a message from Bella.

 **Bella: Stop frowning. Clearly, someone told you that you looked sexy when you did, and they lied.**

I laugh, my eyes darting her way, but she's decidedly _not_ look my way. I wish she would. I really want to see her eyes. I _need_ to see her eyes. I reckon they have the power to ground me somehow and, after the day - the fucking week - I've just had; I'd just like to see her and have her look at me.

 **Edward: Come talk to me.**

 **Bella: So demanding.**

 **Edward: Come here.**

Then:

 **Edward: Please, Bella.**

It takes a moment for her to stand up, but she doesn't come my way. In fact, she heads _into_ the library. I don't say that lightly, because there's _a lot_ of library to my wing. Even though we deal mainly with fiction and second-hand books; there's an entire section devoted to what I refer to as 'book limbo.' It's a place for books that have no place. Or, just books that people haven't bothered to find places for.

That's where she's headed, and I'm expected to follow.

I wait three long minutes before I grab a stack of random books and head in a different direction. I shelve a few before I dump them, and then disappear through the bookshelves in search of the one person I want to see.

All the cloak and dagger makes me want to take her in my arms and kiss her for all she's worth. I don't do that, though _she's_ the one to draw me into a hug - our first one - which lasts for all of twelve seconds. That's definitely longer than normal. What kind of friends hug for that long?

I find that I don't want to let her go.

Bella takes a small step away from me when the hug finally ends. Really, she looks a little dazed. Serves her right, making _me_ feel all light-headed and needy.

"Edward, your hair," she says. "Do you even own a comb?"

I chuckle, absently running a hand through my mess of hair. "It was a rough morning," I say. It actually _has_ been a rough day, and I can't quite remember if I've eaten anything today. My mom would probably be disappointed to learn that I haven't.

Bella steps back towards me, her eyes never leaving my face. "Are you still not sleeping?" she asks.

"I have a lot of work," I say. "I want to get it done so I can watch Emmett's games without feeling guilty about it. I have four assignments due next week. I think I might cry."

She gently touches my forearm.

"Bella," I say.

"I want you to be happy too, Edward," she says seriously. "I just don't think that I'm the person to make that happen."

I frown. What is she talking about? Where is any of this even coming from? "Who have you been talking to?"

"What?"

I step back. "Bella, what do you know?"

"What do I know about what? Edward, what's wrong?"

I lean against the bookshelf behind me, feeling winded all of a sudden. Emmett told me that I should tell her the next time I see her. Now is as good as any, isn't it? Which is why I end up blurting it out: "My dad is dead."

Bella's eyes widen, and she looks genuinely surprised. Well, clearly, she didn't know, which means that she doesn't know about the circumstances surrounding his death. "I'm sorry to hear that, Edward."

I run another hand through my hair, bringing it to rest at the back of my neck. "He died my senior year of high school, weeks before I graduated. I wasn't going to come to Chicago, but my family convinced me that I _could_. So I did. I just left, Bella. I just left, when they needed me, and now they need me more than ever but I'm still here, and you need to know. I'm not some guy who has everything figured out."

"I didn't think that you were."

I laugh. I can't help it. "You're crazy."

"And you're sometimes an asshole."

My emotions feel like they're spinning out of control, and I can barely keep hold of them. I just told her that I'm completely messed up, and she looks perfectly _fine_. Maybe this is what I need to do. Maybe I need to unleash all my crazy, and then she'll leave. Perhaps she'll be better at staying away than I am.

But we both know that she failed at that as well.

"Are you going home for Thanksgiving?" Bella asks.

"I am, yeah," I say. "My flight is on the Wednesday afternoon. Are you?"

She nods. "Flying out Wednesday morning."

"Ooh, is Miss Swan planning on bunking her lectures?"

She blushes, her cheeks tingeing a beautiful pink that makes me smile. I swear, I can spend the rest of my life looking at her.

"Bella?"

She looks up. "Hmm?"

I have to force myself to say the words, mainly because I know that they're going to bring up one of those things that we just don't talk about. I know it's going to ruin this moment, but I have to say it. "What's it going to take to convince you that we can work?" I ask. "How do I get you to believe that I'm in it, whatever the consequences?"

She shifts her weight from her left foot to her right one, clearly uncomfortable. "Edward, I thought we decided."

"No, Bella," I argue; " _You_ decided." I lean forward. "What about _my_ choice? You can't just take it away from me. What if I can handle it?"

"And what if you can't?" she shoots back, clearly unimpressed with this topic of conversation. She's probably just as tired as I am with all the roundabout conversations. Will we, won't we? "Do you think that I don't know what I'm talking about? Do you really think that you're the first person who's stood there and vowed that they can handle it?"

"But what if I can?" I press.

She glares at me. There's this person that she is; this truly open, carefree person, who's practically begging to be let out, but she's keeping her locked away. But why? She's definitely afraid of something. Is she worried for me, or is she really worried for herself?

"So you won't even let us _try_?"

She takes a long, deep breath. "Not now," she eventually says. "Not _now_."

I feel hope flare in my chest, and I know I should stamp it down. If she's so convinced that she's going to end up ruining me, then _this_ is how she's going to do it. "Then when, Bella? What do I have to do?"

"I don't know, Edward. Can't you just - ?"

"Can't I just what?"

"Can't you just understand that I know what it feels like; that I've looked someone in the eye, and believed their words and been burned anyway?"

I stare at her, and I can see it as clear as day. She's terrified; of _me_. She's unwilling to try because she's so scared and, really, I don't have time for this. I'm a well-established human being, with responsibilities that go beyond trying to convince a freshman that I want to be with her. I'm Edward Masen, for God's sake.

I take an involuntary step back. "So this isn't even about me?" I ask. "Do you really think you're the only person who's been burned? It doesn't make you special, Bella. It just makes you human. It makes whoever hurt you human as well."

Silence.

"Fine," I eventually say, spitting the word out. "I don't want all our conversations to be about this anyway. Just call me when you're ready to stop acting like a fucking child."

She flinches, and I immediately regret my outburst. For a moment, I'm sure that her Secret Service men are going to come running in and lock me away somewhere. Wouldn't that be something? What would happen to my family then?

It's better this way, I think.

I want to walk away, but I can't bring myself to do it. How am I supposed to just walk away, when it's the last thing I want to do?

"Help me, Bella," I plead. "Give me _something_."

Her jaw clenches. "Do you know what it's like?" she asks, her voice cracking. "Do you really think this is easy for me? Do you think this is what I want?"

I don't know why I feel irrationally angry, but I am, and I know I'm going to say something I'll regret. Despite that, I can't stop myself. "I don't give a shit!" I snap. "I'm sorry that you think your life is so hard, Bella; I really am, but you aren't the only person with a hard life, all right?" I'm on a roll and I don't think I can stop even if I try. Fuck, I really should get more sleep. "Do you have any idea what I have to deal with on a daily basis? You think I want to spend my days trying to convince you that I want to be with you? Do you really think I have nothing better to do with my time?"

For a moment, we just glare at each other. I'm tired of shouting questions at her and, really, I don't think that I can handle having her shout her own questions at me anymore. We're getting nowhere, and I think it's time for -

Oh shit, she's crying.

"Fuck, Bella, don't cry," I say, my voice catching. "Why are you crying? Please don't cry."

She wipes at her eyes, as if she's irritated with herself. "I'm sorry if all of this is _hard work_ for you, Edward."

" _This_ is hard work?" I ask sarcastically. "Do you have any idea how easy it would be to just be with you? It's hard work staying your friend!"

"Then maybe we shouldn't even be friends," she snaps, and it's out of anger, I can tell.

But it's true.

"Maybe," I agree, and this is it. I'm halfway to panicking when she meets my gaze and holds it.

"I told you I wasn't going to sleep with you," she says softly.

"And I don't fucking care," I tell her. "This is me, and I'm asking you to _try_ with me... why the fuck isn't that enough for you? Aren't I enough?"

"Edward?"

"I have a life that demands my full attention," I say. "My mother, my nephew, my degree, my fucking career! I think it's time that I just accept that you clearly don't want me enough to fucking forget everything else, and let this be it for us."

She stares at me for a long while, something like a rebuttal hanging on her lips. But, when she finally speaks, it's nothing that either of us wants to hear. "Okay."

I swallow. "Okay." And then I walk away.

She lets me.

* * *

When I get home, there is a message from Bella on my phone. I'm tempted not to read it, mainly because I'm all _Bella'd_ out for one day.

Of course, though, I'm a masochist and I read it.

 **Bella: I'm sorry. I'm doing this all wrong. I shouldn't be doing this at all. I know it's too much to ask you to understand without actually explaining it to you, but I am. I'm just trying to protect you. Please don't hate me.**

My heart hurts. I can't help the sudden guilt that I feel. I mean, I think I'm entitled to get frustrated, but I shouldn't have expressed it the way that I did. I don't want us to be _done_.

And, frankly, there are many things about my life that I haven't explained to her either. Can I blame her? Am I allowed to?

I throw my phone down onto my bed and just about manage to distract myself with work. I'm stressed enough without adding Bella to the situation. Right now, it's probably easier to focus on the four assignments I have due.

But I can't. I have to respond.

 **Edward: I don't hate you, Bella. But I also don't want to be protected. I just want to be with you.**

It's too much, I know, but I still send it. I need her to know.

Her reply doesn't come until I'm seconds away from falling asleep. Truly, this has been one of the longest days ever. It feels like it's been four days in one, and I've really been put through the emotional ringer. It's always one step forward and two steps back, and I'm annoyed with myself for constantly pushing for more.

This is crazy, isn't it? It's not like I'm asking her to marry me - even though it sort of feels like I am. Somehow, it feels like, if we ever _did_ , it would be for forever. She'd be it, because my irrational brain has made her 'the one.'

I haven't actually read Bella's message when my phone rings. One look, and it's Bella. I'm not sure I want to answer, but I do anyway.

"Hullo," I mumble, my sleep-brain clear in my voice.

"Did I wake you?"

"No." I yawn.

She lets out a breath. "I wanted to tell you something," she says.

"I'm listening."

"This isn't about you, you're right," she tells me. "It's not even about the fact that I've been hurt before." I don't say a word. "There were boys that came after him, and they didn't want me for me, and it wasn't even that they wanted that other 'one thing' either. I mean, they did, but then..." she trails off. Is this why she was so adamant about the fact that she won't sleep with me? "Logically, I know that you're not like that, and it's always fascinating when you remind me of that." She falls silent for a moment. "I'm not fighting you on purpose, Edward. It's just my automatic response, but I'm trying to fix that."

I'm not going to interrupt her, even though I want to.

"There isn't anyone else. It's just you. Only you." It's as if she feels like she needs to assure me. "I know you're frustrated, and I know this is the last thing you need, but I'm asking you to bear with me. They'll be a day when I'm ready. I don't know when, but there will be."

Admittedly, that's more than I was expecting to get out of her. "Do you know what you're saying, Bella?" I ask. "Do you know what you're asking?"

"I don't, no," she says truthfully.

I pinch the bridge of my nose and close my eyes tight. "I want to be with you, and you want to be with me... It's just that you don't trust me?"

"I do," she says quickly. "I mean, of course I do. I want to. I just - " she stops. "There are a lot of things that come with being me, Edward. I realise that that doesn't really explain much to you, but I _know_. It's nothing that I want for you. Not if we're not sure."

"But I _am_ sure."

Her breath hitches.

"And, clearly, you're not, Bella," I add. "You're not ready for me, or for this kind of relationship. It's difficult, I can only imagine, but I'm willing. I am so willing." How do I tell her that I'd probably turn my entire life inside out for her, if she were even to ask. "So it's time that you want then?"

"It is."

"But we're definitely on the same page about this?"

"Definitely."

I take a deep breath. I _am_ frustrated, but I also understand, which is why I'm irritated and annoyed but also _not_ at the same time. "Do you know what this means?"

"What does this mean?"

"I'm yours," I say, as if I haven't been from the moment I met her. As if she doesn't already know.

"And, believe me, Edward, I'm yours as well." She sounds so serious that I forget who we are for a moment. "I just..."

"...need time."

We're silent for a moment. I can hear her breathing.

"Edward," she finally says.

"Bella?"

"You can ask me things, if you want," she tells me. "Things that you want to know; not only the yes or no questions. You can ask me things."

"Okay."

"Okay."

I let out a small puff of air. "Say, Bella?"

"Hmm?"

"Tell me something."

"Anything."

"Do you know the muffin man?"

She lets out a bark of laughter that surprises us both and I feel the tension in my muscles dissipate. "You truly are very special, Edward Masen."

"And don't you know it."

"I do," she says. "Believe me, I do."

* * *

The stadium is packed for the final game of the football festival. It's just a sea of colour and, truly, it's giving me a bit of a headache. I move through the aisles, counting the rows to the bleachers that Bella texted that she, Alice and Angela were occupying. Apparently there was space for Jasper and me.

When I finally come across them, it's clear to see that they arrived really early, if they're sitting so close to the field. The three girls are all decked out in the school colours; their faces even painted like they're some kind of warriors. Bella looks the most at ease as I've ever seen her, and it takes my breath away.

Bella eventually spots me standing in the aisle and ushers me towards her with a wave of her hand.

I stumble forward, awkwardly shuffling past a few people to get to my brown-eyed girl. "Hello," I say, tugging her into a hug that my brain registers was probably a little too forceful a bit too late.

"Edward, are you drunk?" she asks, her head tilting to the side as she pulls back to look at me.

"A little," I say, hiccuping.

"But... how?"

I grin at her. "You are _soooo_ pretty," I sing-song. "Pretty Bella... _Beautiful_ Bella."

"Oh boy," she mutters.

"We had pre-drinks at the house," I say. Then: "I want to kiss you."

For a moment, she doesn't look amused, but then she laughs. She puts a hand on my shoulder and guides me down to sit next to her. I think she decides that it's safer if I'm seated.

"Where's Jasper?" Alice asks, moments after I'm settled.

"Hello to you too," I say petulantly.

"Yes, hello, Edward," she says impatiently. "Where's Jasper?"

"Parking the car."

"Is he as drunk as you are?" Bella asks me, her brow furrowing in concern.

"I'm not drunk," I say, sitting up straight. "I barely had anything to drink."

"Liar," Bella says.

"Angela!" I exclaim as I look past both Bella and Alice, my smile crooked. "You came! It's so good to see you!"

"Edward," Angela says, looking deathly amused by something. Me, maybe. "It's good to see you too."

I'm about to open my mouth to shout something else, when Alice speaks, shutting me up. "Hush now," she says to me. It's as if she's channelling Rose. "The game's about to start."

I know it's not, though I do try keep quiet. After something that feels like five hundred years - though it's probably only six seconds - my body starts to twitch from being still for so long. I'm not very good at sitting still without the alcohol in my system, so you can only imagine my _buzzed_ brain. My legs starts to bounce, and Bella puts a hand on my knee to stop them. Really, I'm so focused on the fact that her hand is on my leg that I forget why we're even here.

When the music blares around the stadium, I jerk to attention. Bella giggles beside me, and Alice awards me with a significant eye-roll. I'm not drunk. I stand by that, though things are definitely weird and wonderfully blurry. I also feel oddly calm, sitting here right next to Bella. I think I might have freaked out if I was completely sober.

I notice when Jasper arrives, with Jessica - what the actual fuck - in tow.

Bella scoots in closer to me, and she's so fucking warm. I want to wrap myself right around her and just soak it all in. In this moment - this almost-drunk moment - I realise that this is what I want. Bella by my side; it's everything that I want.

Alice flicks my knee to get my attention. "What the fuck is Jessica doing here?" she asks, leaning over Bella slightly.

"How am I supposed to know?" I mutter. "Jazz knows better."

"Does he?" she counters, and I have to admit that I'm a little stumped. "My bet's that she's determined to work her way through the Sig Eps."

I shudder. "She's not getting anywhere near me."

She laughs a haunting laugh. "I think you're one of the only boys who's been so - what's the word - _horrified_ by her interest."

"It's been hard work, I'll give you that," I say. "She's fucking persistent."

Alice worries her bottom lip nervously at the sound of my voice. "How drunk is Jazz, really?" she asks quietly.

"Fucking wasted," I confess, before I return my attention to Bella, surprised to see that her eyes are already on me. "Hello," I say, forgetting that the rest of the world even exists.

She smiles at me, her eyes warm, open and inviting. "Your ears are red."

"Your cheeks are red," I throw back, and she giggles.

"Your favourite colour."

I grin. "Is it weird to say that I missed you?"

"A little," she whispers, her eyes shining with something like mirth. "But I think I understand what you're trying to say. I missed you too."

I take a deep, calming breath to stop myself from leaning in and kissing her right here in front of all of these people. "We've been busy," I say softly, as if it explains the little snips of communication we've had in the last few days.

"Indeed we have."

I watch as she wiggles her left hand into the right pocket of my jacket, and just leaves it there as she turns her attention towards the field. God, this girl is so confusing. Seriously. I don't even know what to make of any of this. How is any of this supposed to make me _not_ want to be with her?

But there's that hope that I'm holding onto. She's trying it out; she's trying not to hide, and I'm giving her this time to figure it out. As long as we're on the same page about where we're headed, I'm willing to wait it out. I need to. I _want_ to.

Alice leans over Bella again. "Oh my God, look at them!"

I desperately don't want to, but Bella does, so I do too. Jasper and Jessica are held in a liplock that makes me cringe. Is he insane? He's fucking insane. I mean, he can't honestly be _that_ drunk, can he? It's Jessica Stanley for fuck's sake.

I'm pretty sure that Emmett, him and I once made a drunken vow never to go _there_. I mean, she did Newton, which really is the kicker for me. Is he trying to piss Alice off that bad? And why? I mean, Alice already had her revenge by fucking Crowley. Jasper was so torn up about that, though he'd never admit it.

I look back at Bella. "When is the game starting?"

"Hopefully, right now," she answers with a grimace. Really, the scene going on to my left is cringeworthy and I honestly feel uncomfortable. Because of it, I elbow Jasper in the side, _hard_ , and he turns to look at me.

"What?"

"What the fuck are you doing?" I hiss.

"I hate football," he says, his voice slurring. "Need a distraction."

"Then fucking play Sudoku," I say. "I'm five seconds to throwing up."

"Then don't look."

"Or you could get a room. There are children here."

He rolls his eyes, before returning his attention back to Jessica. Thankfully, though, they don't engage in any more public displays of affection.

When I look back at Bella, she looks deathly amused. "This isn't going to end well, is it?"

"I'm trying not to think about it," I tell her. "Rose is going to kill him when she finds out. And, really, I think I'll hand her the wrench when she asks for it."

"I'm going to pretend I didn't hear that," she says; "plausible deniability and all that."

I laugh. I can't help it. Something about today feels light. Or maybe it's because of the alcohol in my system. I just feel like today is important somehow.

It's somewhere in the middle of the second quarter that I accept that it's to do with Bella. Her hand slipped out of my pocket the first time that our team made their first touchdown.

Rose and the rest of the cheerleaders go crazy before, during and after every play. I think she's a little _more_ enthusiastic for this festival because of Emmett. They're _together_ , but not 'official,' which kind of makes me think about Bella and me. Not that we're together or anything.

But she's sitting right next to me, and she isn't guarded at all. She looks at me, she touches me, leans into me and _oh_ _mygod_ , it's everything. The game is intense, but so is everything else. It's our first truly public appearance, and I think she's testing it out. I think it's going well, even though I'm vaguely aware of the fact that people look her way rather often - despite the game going on in front of us.

At some point during the third quarter, Bella suddenly goes tense at my side. I turn to her, but she's already taking out her phone and answering a call. I watch as she speaks hurriedly to someone, glances over her shoulder, shakes her head, and then hangs up.

"Is everything okay?" I ask her.

She takes a moment before she nods. "Just Harry and Billy informing me that it's not advisable for me to leave my seat right now," she says.

"Who?"

"Harry and Billy," she explains; "my main Secret Service." Her eyes meet mine. "People like to greet me. Or just tell me that my dad's, uh, great or just awful. I normally don't mind engaging, but there are a few people who are a little too drunk here. Harry's a little uncomfortable."

It's the first time that I notice that the rest of the world actually truly exists. I look around and spot two men sitting a row behind us. I'm certain that they weren't there before. They must be Harry and Billy and, if they're concerned, then they probably have a reason to be.

"Do you want to go?" I ask.

"What? No!"

"Oh."

She smiles. "We're good," she assures me. "I'm not going anywhere."

I notice that she relaxes when the game resumes. We both scream for Emmett whenever he makes a tackle, and I'm convinced my voice is going to be hoarse by the end of the night. I seriously don't even fucking care. I should, because I have a group presentation on Monday morning, but I can't bring myself to do so.

Of course, we win. It's amazing, really. The crowd goes mad. Seriously. They go _mental_. Well, _we_ do. I'm on my feet along with everyone else, and my arms are raised and I'm screaming, and, bloody hell, Bella is _looking_ at me. She's _seeing_ me.

I turn my entire body to face her, ignoring the great big world. "We won," I say.

"We did," she says back.

"Emmett's going to be awful to be around."

She laughs. "I can only imagine."

Alice puts an arm around Bella's waist and pulls her attention away. I think I need the respite, because I want to kiss her. Right now. I can't, I know, but I desperately want to. I turn towards the field, where the team is still celebrating. I catch sight of Emmett making his way over to Rose and lifting her off the ground. I can't help my smile. Those two are really something.

Bella slips her hand into mine to get my attention and I look at her. "Ready to go?" she asks.

I nod once, before I look at Jasper. Thankfully, Jessica is no longer sitting beside him, and I breathe a sigh of relief. I'm definitely going to have to talk to him about this before I head home for Thanksgiving. He's making bad decisions, and I know he'd do the same for me.

"Ready to go?" I ask him.

He nods. "Wanna drive?"

"Maybe we should let Emmett drive."

"Do you want to die?"

I laugh out loud. "He just won; he deserves it."

It turns into the worst decision I've made in a while. I'm surprised we even arrive at the house, and I practically fall out of the car when he pulls into the driveway. I kiss the ground dramatically, which makes Rose laugh when she arrives with Bella, Alice and Angela. Of course, we're having the victory party at our house. Where else?

Bella and I don't spend as much time together once the party's in full swing. I don't mind as much as I probably might have _before_ , but I'm reassured by the fact that she keeps glancing my way. She's acknowledged that we're working towards something, and that I'm probably not going to give up.

For the first time in a long time, I don't feel as if we're going to take a step backwards. We're both moving forward, and it's _everything_.

So, when I meet her in the library the following Tuesday to bid her farewell for Thanksgiving, I'm feeling calm; even borderline happy. It's such a foreign feeling to me, but I'm desperate to hold onto it.

"Have a safe flight, all right," she says, as if it's something I possibly have control over. I mean, for those few hours, I literally put my life in another person's hands; a stranger's hands. I'll drive myself crazy if I spend too much time thinking about it.

"I will," I say anyway, leaning my back against a bookshelf in our little alcove.

"Happy Thanksgiving, Edward."

I smile. "Happy Thanksgiving, Bella Bella."

She flushes. "I'll see you when we get back." I don't think she intends for it to sound like a question, but I definitely hear an inflection in her voice.

"You'll see me when we get back," I tell her, my voice strong and confident. I get the feeling that she doesn't want this moment to end; like she's holding onto it, for whatever reason.

But I really do have to go. I have packing to do, and I have a group tutoring session in a half hour. "Good luck with the pardoning," I say.

She lets out a surprised laugh, and then shakes her head. "All right you, get out of here then."

I pull her into a hug - and hold her for an excess of ten seconds - before I do turn and start on my way back to my counter to gather my things for my shift end.

"Hey, Edward?"

I turn back to look at her, and she's smiling one of those secret smiles that makes my heart jolt.

"I had a dream last night," she says softly, and this is important.

"And?" I prompt. "Was I in it? Was I naked?"

She laughs. It's this light sound that makes the world stop for a moment. "I can tell you that you were _definitely_ in it."

There's more, I can tell, but I know she's not going to give me much. Maybe it's the mischievous glint in her eye, or just what I already know about her. She really is one of a kind, isn't she?

"Also, you weren't naked."

"But you wanted me to be," I say, winking.

She full on blushes, the red tint spreading right across her face so endearingly.

"Answer me this then," I say. "Was it a good dream?"

She takes a moment, looks me up and down, and then she nods. "It was better. It was _so much_ better."


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter Six**

The temperature outside starts to drop quite dramatically as we approach the end November. I'm a little sad about it. November has been _sort of_ good to me, and it's just going to get colder.

My trip home is good for me, though I can't shake the feeling that something is happening that they're hiding from me. They tend to do that, given my habit of, well, _reacting_. It's something big, though. I can feel it. I can see it in the way that they act, around me, and around my mom. I wanted to ask, but I'm too afraid of what I'll be told.

So I don't ask. I rather just enjoy the last days of November, and embrace the start of December with as much gusto as the near freezing temperatures will allow.

Because, as we all know; with the cold, comes a new sense of _irritability_ around campus that I'm not ashamed to admit applies to me as well. The weather just has the ability to make people _miserable_. As much as I love it, I'm not a fan of the turn in my attitude.

Which is why I nap.

If I'm asleep in my warm bed, I don't have to face the cold and the wet, and all the drama that comes with _freezing brains_. Even the library fills up with people who are only seeking warmth from the blistering cold. I hate it.

Seeing as Friday is my only afternoon off, I like to spend it in my dark bedroom, under my warm covers and I desperately try to forget what my friends and family expect of me.

What I expect of myself.

When I get back to the house, I stop by the kitchen to grab an apple. A Granny Smith, of course. I can't eat any other kind. The house is eerily quiet, but that doesn't mean that it's empty. Every week is crunch week these days. This upcoming exam period is mightily important in determining how the rest of the school year goes.

I trudge up the stairs, already dreaming about crawling into my bed. I've never been more grateful that I took the time to make it before I left for my Biochemistry class this morning.

As soon I'm in my room, I shut the door with my foot, drop my bag to the floor and collapse face-first on my bed. My groan is automatic as I let my body relax into the mattress, my eyes closed and my breathing steady. I just about manage to ignore the fact that I smell like laboratory chemicals.

I'm drifting, drifting...

Until my phone rings. Fuck. I can feel it vibrating in my pocket and, for a moment, I almost don't answer. People _know_ what Friday afternoons mean to me, which is why I end up reaching blindly for my phone. It's probably important, I reason.

My eyes are still closed as I lift the phone up and swipe to the right.

"Hullo," I say, my voice slightly muffled by my pillow, as I roll over and stare at my bedroom ceiling.

"Edward."

I sit up quite suddenly. That name, in that tone of voice. "Bella, what's wrong?"

She's quiet for a moment, as if she's making a decision. Then: "I'm sorry to call like this," she says gently. "But I need your help. A favour, really."

I don't even hesitate. "What can I do?"

"Well..."

"Anything," I assure her.

She sighs, before I hear her suck in a deep breath. "My father just, umm, well, he just announced that he'll be running for a second term, and it's as if the entire great big world has gone crazy."

My body is tense. "Okay?"

"There are reporters outside, waiting to pounce, and I really don't want to have to fight through them."

"What do you need?"

"An escape," she whispers.

I smile to myself, practically jumping to my feet. Oh, I'm _definitely_ not tired anymore. "Where are you right now?"

"The library," she says, as if I even have to ask. I can practically hear her rolling her eyes. "I literally cannot leave. They're covering all the exits. Even the damn fire escape ones, which, really, is incredibly unsafe, if you really think about it. It's hazardous. They could be arrested. Should they be arrested? They should. Gosh, they should be arrested for endanger - "

"Bella."

"Sorry," she says, sighing again. "I'm a little out of it at the moment. I don't really want them to be arrested. I just don't know what to do. Harry and Billy want to just push through, but I don't want to do that." She falls silent. "Please help."

Doesn't she know? Doesn't she yet know just what I would to for her? "Okay," I say, looking around my room. "I'm coming to get you."

"You are?"

"Don't sound so surprised, Swan," I say, trying to humour her. "Of course I'm coming. Hang tight."

I move towards my bedroom door, yank it open, and then scream for Jasper and Emmett. Maybe they hear the desperation in my voice, because they practically come running, the questions already in their eyes.

I wave them into my room and close the door, bringing the phone back up to my ear. "Operation Retrieve Swan shall commence very shortly," I say to Bella, and then I hang up.

I don't want to leave Bella waiting for too long, so I rush through what I need from my two best friends in the entire world, making sure that they _know_. This is important to me, because it's important to her. And, to be perfectly honest, they seem a little too excited about what we're about to do. They probably are, because they may be suffering from a bit of cabin fever.

When we're ready to go, I grab my keys and lead us down to the OB. She is parked out front, just _waiting_ to be driven.

I hop in, start the engine, and then drive off before Emmett can even get his door closed. I'm a man on a mission as I race out of Fraternity Quad towards the main campus. I drop off Emmett and Jasper before we get anywhere near the library. Then I drive around the large building, and park on the road on the right of the building, slightly hidden by a small hill.

After I receive a text from Jasper to Emmett's phone, I call Bella from my own.

"Hello," she whispers.

"Operation Retrieve Swan is underway," I say, laughing lightly. I know I sound excited, but I can't help it. Really, this is the most fun that Emmett, Jasper and I have had all week. "In about a minute," I tell her; "start making your way towards the door."

"But they're all out there," she points out.

"Do you trust me?"

Bella doesn't even hesitate. "I do."

I start to think that her trust in me is the main reason why she called in the first place.

"Then make your way to the front doors," I say. "Bella, you're going to be able to walk right out of there. Just keep watch, all right? You'll know when. I'm in the orange car to the right. Head straight towards me. Walk; don't run. Act like you belong. Nobody notices normal people."

"Umm," she mumbles, still sounding unsure. Then: "Okay."

I laugh breathily. "I'm going to stay on the line. Keep the phone to your ear if you want. I'll be right here."

I hear her breath hitch, and I worry that I've said something wrong. I shake my head. There will be time to think about it later. With my own phone pressed to my ear, I call Jasper from Emmett's.

"Whitlock."

I force myself not to laugh. He's taking this so seriously.

"Retrieve Swan is a go. I repeat, Retrieve Swan is a go. Go! Go, go, go."

I can hear Bella giggle in my ear, and I suddenly can't wait to see her. "Are you on the move?" I ask her.

"I'm heading to the front door right now," she says. "There are so many people out there. They're all watching the doors, Edward, just waiting for me to step out."

"Give it a moment," I let her know.

She does. "Oh."

From my car, I can see the attention of the congregated people turn from the library's front doors to a fight that breaks out in the centre of the gathered crowd.

"That's my cue, isn't it?" she asks and, before I can respond; I hear her push on the library doors.

"Remember to walk," I remind her. "Just be calm, all right? Talk to me."

Her breathing is jagged, but I can tell it's not from running. It's something else; something that my mind is refusing to grasp. "Thank you for doing this."

"Just so you know, I expect payment," I say easily. "But seriously, Jazz and Em have been _dying_ to get out of the house all day. And plus, they definitely relish the opportunity to kick the crap out of each other."

She can't stop her gasp. "That's them? It's for real?"

"Oh, Isabella Swan, you are so young," I sing-song. "It's all about authenticity. We have to make them believe."

"Jeez, Edward, you really are enjoying this a little too much, aren't you?"

My mouth opens to respond, but something like a strangled sound comes out instead when I lay eyes on her. She literally takes my breath away. Why oh why does the President's daughter have to be so fucking beautiful?

"It's the prize at the end I'm most looking forward to," I say, my voice perking up.

"And what's that?"

"You already said you weren't going to sleep with me."

She laughs out loud. "You're never going to let me forget about that, are you?"

I smile as I watch her approach the car. When she spots me looking at her, she drops the call and pockets her phone. She has this look of bewilderment on her face that makes my blood boil. I reach across the console to open the door for her, and she jumps into the passenger's seat without a second thought, ducking low enough that she's unrecognisable from the outside.

"Hi," she says, turning to look at me with kind, grateful eyes that threaten to overwhelm me.

"Seatbelt," is all I say to her, as I start to drive. I can feel her eyes on me once she's securely buckled up. I send a quick text to Jasper, and then I set both phones under my left leg. Bella has my absolute attention now even though my eyes are on the road.

I recognise the moment that she notices that I'm not heading towards Fraternity Quad.

"Uh, Edward, where are we going?"

I turn my head to look at her, aware that I'm smiling like an excitable schoolboy. "What? Did you think that this little rescue mission was going to cost you nothing? I wasn't kidding. I expect payment, Bella."

She laughs lightly. "So where are we going then?"

"Are you worried? Do you want to check in with Harry and Billy? Because they are totally right behind us."

Bella whips her head right around to see the infamous black SUV tailing us and, of course she waves. "Harry wasn't very happy with my plan," she admits.

I clear my throat.

"Or _your_ plan."

"I guessed as much," I say. "You are sitting in _my_ car right now." I fall silent for a moment, and then I gasp.

"What? What?"

"You're sitting in my car right now."

She laugh. "Sometimes I forget how dramatic you can be. Or excitable. It's adorable."

I stare at her. "Did you just call me cute?"

"No," she assures me. "I called you _adorable_. There's a difference." I don't see it. "But if this does turn out to be a kidnapping; I will definitely call you cute."

"Right." I laugh out loud. "Because I'm going to be stupid enough to kidnap the first daughter. Do I want to end up on the world's most wanted list?"

"I don't know," she says, her tone taking on a thoughtful quality. "People look for that kind of publicity, Edward. There are a lot of people out there who have crazy ideas."

"That I can believe," I admit, feeling hostile all of a sudden. I'm not entirely sure why though. Or I am, but I don't want to think about it.

She keeps her eyes on me, and I can tell that she notices a certain gravity descend over me. "You are attractive when you're acting child-like," she says in a voice so soft that I can barely hear her; "but you are wonderfully handsome when you're being serious."

She reaches over with her left hand and runs it through my hair. I have no idea how to respond, so I remain silent.

She clears her throat, as if she's just catching herself crossing a line that she's drawn very firmly between us. "You still haven't answered my question," she points out. "Where are we going?"

"Funny you should ask," I say, slowing down the car. "If you didn't talk so much and rather paid attention to the road, you would know that we're already here."

She fakes a laugh, but she does look out at our surroundings as I bring the car to a stop. We've driven quite a ways. You kind of have to, to get to anything remotely _natural_. Slowly, a wide smile spreads across her face, and my heart rate rises dangerously. "Edward Masen, are you trying to seduce me?"

"With Harry and Billy right out there... umm, I think not." I laugh, starting to open my door. "Come on," I say. "The view from the car isn't even that great. You've got to see it from the edge."

Bella hesitates. Maybe out of habit, I don't know, but she looks slightly panicked and I can only imagine why that is. I decide to pretend I don't notice as I continue to talk, climbing out of the car. She told me that she trusts me. I doubt that's changed in the last fifteen minutes.

"Before you ask me how I know this place exists," I say, watching as she eventually climbs out of the car as well; "I should tell you that my ex-girlfriend brought me here. And, before you comment on that, I should also let you know that she did it after she broke up with me. She legitimately tried to kill me."

Bella's eyes widen. "What?"

I shrug, laughing lightly. "Don't look so surprised. You said it yourself: I can be quite the asshole sometimes."

"But being an asshole doesn't mean you get sentenced to death."

"Tell that to Tanya. She was fucking crazy."

Bella just laughs. "Please tell me you're kidding," she practically pleads. "She didn't really try to kill you, did she?"

"She did," I tell her, nodding my head. "I swear she did, Bella. We were fighting, and one two three, I'm over the edge, holding on for dear life. I practically shit my pants."

"Gosh, you _can_ be so dramatic," she says, continuing to laugh.

"This is true," I'm quick to agree. "I can be very dramatic when I want to be. My brother calls me Edith sometimes." When she glares at me, I automatically add: "And by saying that; I in no way mean to insult the female population."

"You already did." Bella steps towards me. "Asshole. Do you want me to push you down there as well?"

I laugh, though I can't mistake the slight intimidation I feel. Or is that arousal? "Well, wouldn't that be a story to tell our children?" I manage to get out.

She just stares at me for a moment, before she shakes her head. "You're never going to give up, are you?"

I can't help my grin. Perhaps there's actually a chance that I might wear her down if I keep at it. Edward Masen is nothing if not consistent. "If I told you I'm in love with you, would you reconsider?"

Her gaze snaps towards me, and I flinch. _Too much too much. Shit shit shit. Take it back take it back._ "Edward?"

"Uh..." I laugh, raising my hands in innocence as I try to play it off as some kind of joke. Except I'm fucking crying inside. What is _wrong_ with me? "Hey," I admonish, shrugging slightly. "You said it yourself, didn't you? I'm dramatic."

She doesn't look entirely convinced, but I think she wants me to be joking. Nobody is ready for the potential reality that I'm not. "That you are," she declares, her gaze never once straying from my face. It's unnerving and deathly disarming.

Why is she looking at me like that?

"I find that I quite like dramatic," she says after a long silence, in which we just stare at each other, the amazing view completely forgotten. It's usually what happens when we're together. The great big world just ceases to exist and, dammit, I'm in love with her. I am. There's no denying it now. "Everyone I know can be quite serious," she continues. "You're definitely a breath of fresh air." It's as if she's speaking a truth unheard by even herself.

"Is it good air, or bad air?" I venture to ask.

"Good," she says with a knowing smile. "Definitely good."

I smile, feeling heat rise up my neck. I really hope she doesn't notice the tips of my ears. "Great. Now shut up," I say to distract her. "I'm trying to enjoy the view."

Bella eventually does as she's told, looking out at the panorama and visibly taking it all in. We're quiet in each other's presence, standing side by side as the rest of the worries of the world fall away. I barely notice when she takes hold of my hand, entwining our fingers, because it just feels like what has to be done in a moment like this one. Though, when she gives my fingers a slight squeeze; I'm forced to acknowledge this moment for what it is.

Isabella Swan is holding my hand, and she isn't letting go.

I force myself to remain calm. I dig the nails of my free hand into my palm to stop myself from looking at her. I need to appear unaffected, even though my heart is thumping wildly in my chest and my face is threatening to split into two from the sheer force of my smile.

Isabella Swan is holding my hand.

The girl of my dreams is actually holding my hand. The girl of _everyone_ 's dreams.

Bella can remain silent for exactly two minutes and fourteen seconds. "She didn't really try to kill you, did she?" she has to ask.

I laugh out loud, welcoming the opportunity to relieve some of the tension in my body. "Of course not," I say. "But I could tell that she was thinking about it. Those crazy eyes always give away the crazy plans."

She squeezes my hand again. "I'm glad you're not dead," she says seriously. "My life would definitely be missing something very special."

I keep my eyes on her. "And don't you know it."

We fall into silence again and, this time, Bella is able to hold it for longer. We stay up on that cliff for close to half an hour, her hand in mine and her head resting on my shoulder. Seriously, I couldn't have predicted a better way to spend my Friday afternoon than in content silence with Bella. This beats sleep any day.

At some point, I go to the car to check my phone. Jasper's sent a text, telling me that the reporters eventually vacated the library, but they are now camped out in front of Bella's Residence Hall.

Which is why, when we finally decide to leave, we go to Fraternity Quad.

Not many of the boys are hanging around the house when we arrive, so I don't have to do much sneaking to get Bella inside. I take her up to my bedroom and desperately try to make her feel as comfortable as possible. She ends up sitting on my bed, her shoes off and her body relaxed. Really, it unnerves me, and I can't help but bustle about, asking her if she needs anything more.

"I'm fine," she keeps assuring me. I just want everything to be perfect; to make sure that she would want to come back one day. "Stop fussing," she says. "Seriously, Edward. It's just me here. Just Bella."

I stop quite suddenly. "I know that," I tell her. "I mean, I know it's just you, which, incidentally, is what is so scary."

"Well, calm down, would you?" she says with a reassuring smile, and I do feel myself relax. "You're starting to stress _me_ out."

I laugh, absently running a hand through my hair. "Okay. Okay. Move over then."

Bella shifts to her right to make space for me to sit down next to her. I don't actively try to touch her, even though the length of my body is practically glued to the length of hers.

"I thought we'd watch a movie," I offer, as I bring my laptop onto my lap and bring up my folder of movies. "As always, I've picked out the fan favourites. We have, of course, _White House Down_ , _Olympus has Fallen_ , my personal favourite, _Chasing Liberty_. There's..."

She cuts me off. "Edward," she says, rather seriously. Then she laughs gloriously. "What am I ever going to do with you?"

I shrug my shoulders. "Jeez, tough crowd." I switch to a different folder. Romantic comedies haven't failed me yet. "Okay, fine, we'll have to watch one of my all time favourites then: _Just Go With It_."

She's looking at me in that way again, as if she doesn't believe that someone like me can exist. I hope she can see her own sentiment reflected in my eyes because, seriously, where has this wonderful creature been all my life?

I start the movie, and relax into the pillows behind me, trying desperately not to lose myself in the heat of her.

We watch Adam Sandler and Jennifer Aniston run circles around each other until I suddenly pause the movie and declare that I'm _famished,_ throwing in the faux-British accent for dramatic effect.

She laughs out loud, her body vibrating against mine. "Don't tell me you're also an excellent cook."

I give her a pointed look. "I wouldn't go so far as to say _excellent_ , but I can whip up a mean meal when I'm on point."

She looks so comfortable lying here beside me, in my bed, that it takes every bit of my willpower to move. I stand up slowly, and I can feel her eyes on me as I walk towards my bedroom door. Before I leave, I turn back to look at her.

"I don't need to tell you not to go anywhere, right?" I say.

"I won't even move from this spot."

I let out a relieved breath. "Give me, umm, like ten minutes."

She smiles. "I'll be here."

I hesitate for a moment more, before I rush out of the room. I practically fly down the stairs and make a complete mess of the kitchen. Of course, the sounds of pans flying this way and that attract attention, but nobody is brave enough to ask me just why I've decided to try my hand at _MasterChef_ tonight of all nights.

I prepare a tray of fruit, the pancake-waffle things that I've attempted to make, a box of juice, two glasses and a rose from the flower bouquet in our entrance hall. It's not much, unfortunately, but if ever I do take her out on a date; I swear I'll make it amazing. It's the only thing that gets me to leave the kitchen with my concoction.

I navigate the steps slowly, carefully. But, what I find when I return to my bedroom almost makes the tray hit the deck. Bella is standing up, her shoes on and her bag propped on the edge of my bed. She's even putting on her coat.

"Uh, what are you doing?" I ask immediately, moving to set the tray down on my desk.

"I think I should go home now, Edward."

I think of everything I can possibly say to get her to stay all at once, but all that comes out of my mouth is: "Oh."

"Gosh, don't look so sad," she says, smiling at me. "I just think that it's best if I go home now. It's getting quite late."

I can't hide my disappointment. Really, I feel _gutted_. "I don't want you to go," I say.

Bella's features soften, but she doesn't say anything.

"I mean," I add; "we haven't even finished watching the movie yet. At least watch until Jennifer Aniston and Nicole Kidman go at it in the ultimate Hawaii-off."

She looks thoughtful for a moment, and I don't allow myself to relax until she nods.

There's something _off_ about her movements as she returns to her position on my bed. She even tenses when I resume my own position as well. I can't help thinking that something happened while I was out of the room. Before I press play on the movie, I turn my head to look at her.

"Bella, is everything okay?" I ask.

She's quiet for a solid minute, before she meets my gaze. "It's just that I was lying here," she begins; "and all I was thinking was that it was too warm and too perfect and too _everything_ to warrant moving. There doesn't seem to be anywhere else I want to be. Right here, with you, on your bed is the place that I feel the calmest, Edward. Especially after today. It's what makes you so perfect, isn't it? You make it so that I'm able to forget that that other side of my life even exists."

Doesn't she know that she does the same for me?

She laces her fingers together, which is a clear sign of her nerves. "You also don't try to inject yourself into all of it," she continues, her gaze dropping to her hands. "For the most part, unlike nearly every other guy in existence, you aren't interested in me because I'm the President's daughter. You're interested in me because I'm Bella. That's it. That's what matters to you."

I can't even comprehend how relieved I am that she understands and believes that.

"I was just in here, and I kept thinking that I don't _deserve_ to be here with you. Not like this. Not when I can't give you what you've told me that you want. I mean, you're so pure, and so normal, and I'm just going to ruin you, Edward. Look at your walls, for God's sake." I look at my walls. "I mean, you have movie posters. Posters of artworks, and even posters of Victoria Secret models. It's so damn adorable. This whole place is yours, with all your silly trinkets, your picture frames, your open closet and your untidy desk. This is who you are, and you've just invited me into it, whole-heartedly, and I -.

"Edward, you're truly one of a kind, and you're probably the only person I could feel anything remotely like this around. But I know I'm going to ruin you. I know it. Even if I do everything I can possibly do to prevent it, it's going to happen, and I won't be able to handle ever doing that to you. I can't. Which is why I can't give in. It's just becoming increasingly harder. Even being here with you is making it all the more difficult." She sighs. "I really should go home."

I have no idea what to say to her. She's never said as much as this about our current situation, and I can tell that she's given all of this a lot of thought. It deeply bothers her, and I don't have the words to make it better for her because all I want is for her to give in. I need her to.

"Edward?"

"Please don't go," I whisper. I just know that, if she walks out of that door right now, I'll lose her forever, and I _can't_. I want her to be mine.

She sighs again. "Just until the end of the movie," she says, shifting slightly and getting more comfortable.

She clearly doesn't anticipate falling asleep against me before 'Dolph Lundgren' even attempts to save the sheep from choking.

 _I_ don't intend to fall asleep either, but I do. And, when I wake up, she's still in my bed, held securely in my arms. Fuck. Now that I _know_ what it's like to wake up to her; I'll never be able to sleep soundly ever again. Her right palm is pressed against my neck, her left fingers hold the fabric of my t-shirt, her legs hug my left leg and her breath is tickling my chin. She's so close to me, but I can't help feeling like she's still so far away.

Eventually, I disentangle myself from her and stand up. My room smells like her, a mixture of strawberries and _girl_. I have to open a window to let in some fresh air so I can think clearly. This girl is literally invading my mind and my body.

I watch her sleep for a moment, trying to commit to memory the image of her in my bed. It's everything and nothing at the same time, and I don't know how I feel about it. Because I know she can't stay. Or she _won't_. It's all really confusing now.

I head to the bathroom to grab a quick shower after doing a quick rounds of the house. I have a long day ahead of me with regards to schoolwork and a visit to the local SPCA with the sophomores and prospective recruits. The house is still eerily quiet, which is a good thing. If I'm going to get Bella out of here unnoticed, then I'm going to need the house to be as empty as possible.

She's awake when I return to my bedroom, dressed solely in a towel wrapped around my waist. Okay. I definitely didn't think this through. I feel terribly exposed as I stand there, awkwardly keeping my body turned away from her.

"Hi," I croak out, skulking towards my closet. "I, uh, didn't mean to wake you."

"You didn't," she says, her voice raspy from sleep, and I force myself not to groan. Jesus. The way she's looking at me... I'd be an idiot not to figure out that she likes what she sees. I'm not a particularly _big_ guy like Emmett or Jasper, but I'm lean enough. I have a runner's body, which means chicken shit to me when her eyes are raking over my body the way that they are right now.

I reach for an old t-shirt on my desk chair and quickly slip it on. I disappear as much as I can into my closet and gather a pair of boxers, jeans and socks, before I head out of the room again. When I return fully dressed, she is also fully dressed, shoes, coat and all. I hang my damp towel up on one of my closet doors, before bending to retrieve a pair of sneakers.

"Harry and Billy have been rearing to go since the sun came up," I inform her, as I sit down on the end of my bed to put my shoes on and tie up my laces. "Rose texted; she said that the reporters went home around midnight. Of course, though, there's got to be increased speculation about where you spent the night, so we're going to have to get you out of here without a single person laying eyes on you."

She just nods.

"I trust my brothers, but I think even this bit of news is too much for most of them."

She just nods again.

"Do you want to use the bathroom?" I ask.

"Please."

I lead the way out of my room and down the hall. It's a bathroom that I share with Jasper and Emmett so it's relatively clean, if not currently steamy. I wait while she does whatever she does, and then we're going back to my bedroom. She looks calmer, a little more relaxed, and she finally speaks more than a single word to me.

"Did I snore?" she asks.

I can't help my smile. "No, but you do talk in your sleep."

"I do not," she counters immediately.

"You definitely do." I laugh lightly, teasingly. "Now I know why you were adamant about not sleeping with me."

She slaps my chest in response, and I trap her hand with one of my own.

"Well, now that you _have_ , technically, slept with me, was it really that bad?"

She looks down at our feet, visibly trying to think of the best answer. It looks like she's fighting over what she wants to say, and what she knows she has to say. When she finally makes a decision, she raises her head and meets my gaze. "I don't even remember it."

I gasp, as I drag her hand over my chest to where my heart is. "All I ever do is love you and this is how you treat me."

She traps her bottom lip between her teeth and _ohgod ohgod_ somebody help me.

"But I understand," I say, trying to distract myself from pulling her flush against me and kissing her senseless. "I totally understand. I'm just a piece of meat, that you sleep with and then leave in the morning."

She takes a deep breath. "Jesus, dramatic much?"

I can feel that this is it. Our little adventure ends now and, as much as I want to keep her locked away in my bedroom with me; there's an entire world going on out there that demands our attention. So I step back. "Harry and Billy are waiting," I say, releasing her hand and starting for the door. "We should get going."

She grabs my arm before I can fully turn away. "I'm sorry."

"For what?"

She squeezes my arm. "I'm sorry that I'm making it so difficult. I just don't want to ruin it, Edward. I couldn't bear that. What if I ruin it?"

"I don't think now is the time for this conversation," I say, and I mean it. "I'm still reeling over what you said in your sleep."

She swallows. "Are you ever going to tell me?"

"Let's go."

She doesn't release me. "Tell me."

I take a deep breath, preparing myself. "Yesterday, I was the person you called, Bella. You called me to come and get you. You called _me_ and I _came_. I dropped everything, and I came to get you."

She swallows again, clearly uncomfortable with my tone or with my words.

"You asked me to save you."

"What?"

"In your sleep, Bella," I explain. "You asked me to save you."

She looks panicked. "Oh."

"I'm always going to save you."

For a moment, she looks like she has absolutely no idea what to say. Then something happens. Her features turn to a look of determination, then sublime relaxation. It's as if she's made some kind of decision, and I can't help but think it's about me.

Before she can say anything, I step forward and place a gentle kiss against the crown of her head. My lips linger, and I fight the urge to wrap my arms around her and just _hold her_.

I love her. I'm desperately in love with her, and it is probably the best and worst thing to ever happen to me.

"Right," I eventually say, clearing my throat; "so, let's go." I start for the door, her hand in mine, and I lead the way out of the house.

Harry pulls the car around the side street and we go through our neighbour's front yard to get to it. The entire thing is uneventful, really, and I'm grateful for it. Bella already has enough to deal with, now that the reporters are out for blood.

She bids me goodbye, placing a gentle kiss against my cheek and then she is gone. Harry takes off down the street and still I stand, watching as the car disappears from sight. Eventually, I let out a long, satisfied breath and then head back to the house.

I love her. I'm so in love with her.

And to think I was going to catch a fucking nap.


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter Seven**

If I think that our little sleepover is going to change anything, I'm severely mistaken. If anything, Bella pulls back slightly, though she tries not to be obvious about it. I know her well enough now to see right through it.

I don't know if I'm irritated or not. It'd be easy to be, but I can't bring myself to do it. I _hate_ that I understand. I hate that she does this to me; that I _let_ her do this to me.

As a result, Bella and I don't see much of each other when our Fall classes end, and we move into the exam period. I think maybe it's better that I can use my time to focus on my schoolwork. Every one of these exams is important in deciding my future. Nobody wants to be that guy who flunks out in his third year.

I study _hard_ because I don't want to be in a bad mood when I do finally get home. I've been told that I'm terrible to be around when I'm concerned about my results. I want to enjoy my time at home, and acing my exams is the only way I know how to do it.

The exam period goes quickly. I fall into a bit of a rhythm, just about managing to fit in all my meals, sessions of studying, conversations with my family, friends and Bella. Ever since my brain decided that I've fallen in love with Bella, there's no possible way that I can think of her as a friend again.

We talk on the phone, and we exchange messages, but we don't try to see each other. The truth is that I'm not sure what I'll do if I do see her. I might end up saying or doing something that'll truly end up ruining things between us.

So you can imagine my surprise when I get home after I've written my last exam for the year and there's a certain brown-eyed girl in my bedroom. She's sitting on my bed, right next to the open suitcase I placed there before I left this morning.

As soon as I step through my door, I shut it with my foot and drop my bag to the ground. My mouth doesn't say anything as I just stare at her. I want to know what she's doing here, but I'm worried that it's all really an illusion.

It isn't.

"Hi."

I shuffle further into the room. "Hey."

She glances at the suitcase. "Going somewhere?"

"I'm going home," I tell her. "Tomorrow."

She blinks slowly. "Tomorrow."

"When are _you_ going home?" I ask, walking awkwardly towards my desk. I shift my chair out of the way, and lean against the desktop, absently folding my arms across my chest. It's not an inviting position, but I can't help it. I don't feel very _inviting_.

"On the fifteenth."

I frown. "Why so late?"

"Oh, well, my family is doing a tour of the West Coast and, I'm meeting them in Sacramento when they get there," she explains, and I just nod. "It's back to business as soon as school lets out."

I watch her carefully, just waiting.

She just stares at me expectantly. It's as if she's waiting for something too. Eventually, she heaves a sigh. "I owe you an explanation," she says, dropping her gaze. "A real one. The full truth. Full disclosure."

I don't move.

"Before we moved to D.C., there was this boy, Jake," she begins. "We'd been best friends for years. It was actually a little strange, because his mom is my dad's best friend. They always told us that they went on one date when they were fifteen, and they decided that they weren't ever going to do it again." She sounds lost in the memory for a moment. "Well, Jake and I started to date before my dad even announced he was running. I think it's important that I say that. There was a before, Edward, and there was an _after_.

"When the announcement was made, things changed. Not just for Jake and me, but at school, and in life in general. People were suddenly very interested in my family, and I was worried about what it would do to, well, my friendships and my relationship. He assured me that he could handle it. Every day, he promised me that he loved me, and that the campaign wouldn't change anything." She gets this faraway look in her eye, and all I want to do is wrap my arms around her.

"I'm sure you can guess what happened," she says darkly. "He _couldn't_ handle it, and I sure as hell don't blame him. Maybe, for a while, I did, but not anymore. Because I understand. This life, it's not for everyone. It's not even for me, and it makes me miserable sometimes. It's hard having everything you do scrutinised; every outfit you wear analysed and criticised. My parents shield me from all that they can, but I'm nineteen now..." she trails off. "Look, Edward, you have to know what it's like."

I listen as she tells me about all the times that she's failed as a first daughter; about all the times that she's died to rebel in some way; about all the times she's discovered that she had very few real friends. I listen to every word she says, barely taking my eyes off of her.

Clearly, this is all something that she wants to say to me. She tells me about her run-ins with journalists, and about how her father increased her security detail when she started to spend time with the kids of his non-supporters.

"I did it on purpose, just because I knew it would wind him up," she admits. "I did a lot of things to push his buttons. The only reason he even allowed me to come to Chicago was if I promised that I'd behave. I would have done anything to get out of D.C. So I told him I would be good, and I have.

"I like it here; I like my friends, and I like the fact that I'm sometimes left alone, but not really. I mean, my life is always going to be analysed, my every move photographed and my every word picked apart. All I'm saying is that it takes a special kind of strength to go through it all and keep your sanity. It's natural to crack, and I definitely have before. I'll own up to that, which is why you have to know, Edward.

"So I really do like it here. I like that it isn't the same, but not _too_ different. I especially like that I get to be this that I am person here. I didn't like who I was when I was in that House. It was... it just wasn't me." She shakes her head. "These are all things that you have to know, Edward," she says, standing up and closing the buttons of her coat. "They're things that you have to think about, and consider before we do this."

I blink. Wait. What did she just say? "Do what?"

She looks at me. "I don't know if you remember, but you once told me to call you when I'm ready to stop acting like a fucking child."

I flinch. Fuck, I did say that. "Bella?" I start, but she raises a hand to keep me silent.

"I thought I would bypass the call, and just pay a visit instead," she says, and I think I stop breathing. I must, because I don't seem to be moving at all. What did she just say? Wait, what, what the fuck did she just say?

 _Masen, pay attention_.

"Bella?" I croak.

She smiles at me for the first time, and it's utterly dazzling. If I weren't already propped up against my desk, I might have stumbled backwards. Her smile is like sunshine, and I don't think that I've seen it shining so bright before.

"Are you saying what I think you're saying?" I whisper.

She doesn't respond to my question. "You have to think about it first," she says. "Now that you _know_ , you have to consider everything before, uh, before we do this."

"And when you say 'this,' you mean?"

" _Try_."

I'm going to squeal. Fuck, I'm going to lose all my cool points in front of her in an instant. Curse my mother and passing on her _squealing_ genes.

She smiles again.

"Okay," I say, finding my voice. "I've thought about it... Can I kiss you now?"

An unexpected laugh escapes from behind her lips, and she shakes her head. "I mean it, Edward," she says. "You have to really think about it."

"I have," I argue. "Believe me, all I've done is think about this. I want this, Bella. I want _you_. Desperately."

Bella looks conflicted. It would be too easy to give in right now, but she clearly came here with a game plan in mind. Kissing was not a part of her plan, and I think it's best that I don't push. "Will you please just take the time to think about it?" she asks quietly.

"I will," I tell her, because I will.

"And then we'll talk about it some more when we get back from the Break," she offers.

I panic slightly. "Does that mean that I won't be able to talk to you at all?"

"No," she says; "we'll talk. Just, not about _this_. It's important to me that you think this through, Edward."

I nod. "Okay, Bella."

She smiles again, and it takes all my willpower not to reach for her and never let her go. Just the prospect of being able to hold her is enough to set my body alight. I'll get to touch her, to hold her hand and kiss her. My body suddenly feels electrified.

I think she senses it, because her smile turns into something else; something oddly predatory. She feels it too; I can see it.

She laughs lightly. "I should probably go, and let you get started with your packing."

I want to ask her to stay, but the words don't come out.

Bella moves to stand right in front of me, and I stand up straight. She takes hold of my left hand, brings it up to her lips and presses a gentle kiss against my palm. "Travel safely tomorrow," she whispers. "Will you let me know when you arrive?"

I nod.

"I hear that you're taking your boys with you," she says, not releasing my hand as she holds it suspended in between us.

"They come home with me every Christmas," I tell her. "They're family."

It looks like she has more questions, but she lets it be. Even she can accept that Jasper and Emmett are my family. "Did you know that this means that all of my friends are going to be on the West Coast for Christmas? You three, Rose, Alice _and_ Angela."

I frown slightly. "Bella, I've been meaning to ask you this for a little while, but, umm, _do_ you have other friends? Like, from class?"

She looks a little taken aback by my question, but she offers me a smile. "I do," she says; "just none that are quite like the rest of you. None that I'd miss as much as you lot."

I tug on her hand to bring her closer to me. "Are you happy, Bella?" I ask.

"Are you?" she counters.

With my free hand, I gently touch her cheek. God, her skin is so soft, and so warm. "I'm trying to be," I murmur. "I _want_ to be."

She bites her bottom lip for a moment, before she asks a question for which neither of us is ready. "Do you think your happiness lies with me?"

"Would you be terrified if I said yes?"

"I would."

I remain silent.

"Oh boy," she whispers.

This time, I kiss her palm. "Is that something that you need to think about?" I ask her.

She takes a moment, but then she shakes her head. "I told you that I want you to be happy, Edward. There's nothing to think about."

I've died and gone to heaven, I swear I have. Or I'm dreaming. This is all a dream. I must have fallen asleep in my exam; that's what's happened.

She smiles brightly again, looking a little amused at my obvious reaction. "I'll see you in the new year," she says softly, her eyes flicking down to my lips. I can't even breathe. Bella takes a moment to settle herself before she reaches up and kisses the corner of my mouth. It isn't _really_ a kiss, but it sure as hell feels like one.

I almost don't let her take that step away from me.

Bella lets out a small laugh, and then she takes another step back as she releases my hand. "Be good, Masen," she says, and then she's gone.

It takes me an embarrassingly long time to recover from everything that's just happened, and get to packing. I almost want to jump up on my furniture and scream out that I'm in love with Isabella Swan, but I don't.

I _am_ , though. I am so unconditionally and irrevocably in love with her that it's borderline pathetic.

But I literally don't even fucking care.

When Jasper comes to visit me later in the night, I've barely recovered. I don't even know how to tell him that Bella's ready. _We're_ ready. I'm sure I'll find the words at some point. So, instead, I just berate him about the fact that he hasn't even started packing.

In the end, he's done before I am. I don't know how he does it. But then again, all he really wears is wifebeaters and denim shorts. I have to remind him that we're going to be in Seattle in December.

It's the same as December in Chicago. But he's a Southern man apparently - whatever the fuck that means.

Emmett isn't leaving with us. He has football things to take care of before he can leave school. Oh, the joys of being a star football player. Jasper offered to wait with him, but I suspect that Emmett wants to spend some time with Rose.

So I'm taking Jasper with me. I'll probably need to knock some sense into him, given the debacle with Jessica. At least he took a step back and focused on his studies. I'm sure Alice was happy about that. Or just _not_ mopey. Rose keeps spamming my phone with all her complaints about the emotional rollercoaster that is Alice Brandon. I'm so relieved that I don't have to see her every day.

Emmett drops us off at the airport in the OB, and then speeds off before I've even closed the trunk. Jasper and I exchange an amused look, and then we're on our way. I can't wait to get home. I've missed my family quite terribly.

The flight is full, of course, but it doesn't bother me as much as it bothers Jasper. There's a crying baby two rows in front of us and Jasper complains the entire way. I tune him out with my iPod and a novel that Bella recommended. As interesting as it probably is, I just can't get into it. I'm seeing my mom in less than two hours and, wow, I can't even focus.

My brother picks us up. He's parked in the stop 'n' go, and we can barely greet one another before the security guard is hounding us to get going. Jasper is full of talking, but I can sense some kind of unease radiating off of Peter and I'm not sure I'm ready to ask.

I don't figure out what it is until we get home.

Thankfully, Riley's at home with my mom when we get to the house, because he's the only reason that I don't visibly freak out when I see my mom.

What the actual fuck? No, really. What. The. Fuck.

Jasper doesn't look as surprised as I do, which just angers me further. I can barely form sentences, I'm so fucking confused; and I don't have it in me to be the good son and greet her the way I'm supposed to. What the hell is going on?

Why didn't anyone fucking tell me?

I focus on Riley. It's the only thing I can think to do. I'm freaking out, of course, but if I'm with Riley, I won't let it out. It'll stay inside, hidden behind my eyes and as I try - and possibly fail - to contain the hurricane of emotions currently inside of me.

It's when Peter's wife, Charlotte, gets home that Riley's attention is diverted, and my mom is able to catch mine. I can't even look at her. I _won't_.

She looks so fucking sick.

Like _sick_ sick. Beyond sick. Like, the kind of sick you don't come back from. And, bloody hell, why wasn't I fucking told?

"Edward?"

I won't look at her. I can't.

"Sweetheart, look at me."

I refuse.

"Edward, _please_."

I look at her. How can I not? "Why didn't you tell me?"

"We didn't want to worry you while you were writing your exams," she says.

"Bullshit!" I hiss.

She doesn't react to my cursing. I think she accepts that I'm allowed this reaction.

"When?" I ask.

Silence.

"When did you know?" I ask. "Before Thanksgiving? After? While I was _here_? Tell me!"

Jasper puts a hand on my shoulder, and I shrug it off. I stand up quite suddenly, and my chair topples over.

I can't look at any of them. So I leave. I walk out of the room, and then out of the house. I meet Tori on my way out, but I can't even look at her either. _All of them_. They all fucking knew, and they didn't tell me. Why wouldn't they just tell me?

Are they worried I'll do something crazy like my father did? Do they suspect that I'll leave school? That I'll what? Implode?

I walk for a while, the streets familiar and comforting. I can feel my phone vibrating in my pocket. They're messages until they're not. Someone's calling me and, one look later, I answer.

"Bella," I breathe.

She must hear something in my voice, because the usual lightness to her tone is gone. "Edward, are you okay?"

"Bella," I say again. I don't want to talk about it. I just want to hear her voice.

She figures it out quickly, so she tries to distract me. "The girls and I went to this restaurant today," she says. "It's called _Beefcakes_." She sounds so amused that I can't stop my smile. "I didn't really know what they were getting me into, because I was so not prepared.

"The waiters were all guys, and they all had their shirts off. It was wonderful and not at the same time. Rose wanted to scandalise me, I think. You should have seen Harry and Billy. They were _so_ uncomfortable; it was worth going just to see their faces."

I'm successfully distracted, and we spend the next few minutes talking about nothing in particular. I wait until our conversation is over to head home. Everyone is in the living room when I walk through the front door. I don't even stop as I head up to my bedroom.

"I don't want to talk about it," I say; "Goodnight."

* * *

Things are tense for a few days.

I accept the blame for it, but I can't bring myself to _understand_. I hate that they didn't tell me. I hate that they thought me so, what, _volatile,_ that I wouldn't be able to handle it. I mean, I've handled everything else so far, haven't I?

Don't they get it? I'm not my father.

 _I'm_ _not_.

Riley senses that something is amiss, but he wisely doesn't ask anyone about it. At least, not in front of me, he doesn't. I'm sure he's brought it up to Charlotte at some point, because she keeps giving me these tired, sympathetic, sometimes glaring looks that are starting to grate on my nerves.

I should have been told, God dammit!

Jasper attempts to talk to me a few times, but I don't want to listen. If there's something I _definitely_ inherited from my father, it was his stubbornness. Because, truly, this is denial at its finest and I really don't fucking care.

 _Someone should have told me_.

I can't get over it. I mean, it's one thing for my mom not to tell me, but Peter and Charlotte? And Tori! It makes me rage whenever I think that they must have had some kind of family meeting to discuss it, and then they decided that the son who's been busting his ass to pay their fucking bills without flunking out didn't deserve to know that his mother is -

What?

What is she?

Christmas comes and goes, and I just about calm down enough to enjoy it and be present enough that I don't upset Riley. Emmett is good comic relief, easily taking the attention away from the fact that I'm not vocal at all. I spend quite a lot of time contemplating just going back to Chicago. I mean, they didn't treat me like I was part of the family, so why should I be here?

I don't leave. It'd be dramatic, and childish. And, really, the last thing I want is to be away from my mom. I might be angry with her and not talking to her, but there is something oddly calming about being in the same house as her.

So I'm calm, angry, heartbroken, livid, and probably every other emotion you can think of. I'm feeling it all, and I fucking hate it.

It isn't until I decide to visit my mom's doctor, that I'm forced to accept just what is happening. It's in his office that I speed through the five stages of grief and come to accept that, yes, Edward, your mom is _sick_ and she didn't fucking tell you.

I go to the hospital alone, though I mention my trip to Jasper, just in case anyone is looking for me. Some of the nurses in Oncology recognise me, though none of them are brave enough to greet me beyond a timid wave. It must be the look on my face. I'm here on a mission and they must see it.

I rap my knuckles on the office door and poke my head inside. The man I'm looking for is seated behind his desk, several files open in front of him and a slight crease in his brow. His head lifts up, and his eyes widen slightly when he spots me. I'm probably the last person he expected to see, so I don't blame him.

"Edward," he says, as he rises to his feet.

"Dr Cullen."

He sighs. "I've told you to call me Carlisle, Edward," he says, waving me in with one of his hands. "What brings you by?"

I move into the office and sit down opposite him. I don't say anything for a moment, as I try to find the words. I had an entire speech planned out, but now, _nothing_. "I need you to tell me the truth," I eventually say, cutting straight to the chase. I've come for a very important reason. "Tell me how long."

"Edward."

"Tell me."

He sits back down, his body heavy as it settles. "I'm not sure what I _can_ tell you," he finally says. Oh yeah, confidentiality and all that. "What do you already know?"

"Nothing!" I snap. "Apparently nobody thinks that I need to be told _anything_."

He watches me for a moment. "You want to know how long?"

I nod.

"Four to six months, Edward."

It's a shock. I mean, I had an idea, but... I'm still stunned. It's too little. The time is too little. "B - but..." I stutter; "how?"

"What do you mean _how_?"

"Everything was fine," I say, sitting back. I feel winded. "I mean, sure, it was back, but she was fine, right? She was going to get better. Like Riley!" I shut my eyes tight for a moment, before they fly open. "This isn't how it's supposed to work, Carlisle! They take turns! They get _better_!"

"Edward?"

"How am I supposed to - I can't - " I can't breathe. "She - He - no no no." Is this a panic attack? Fuck, I can't breathe. I'm practically heaving.

In a flash, Carlisle is kneeling in front of me, with his hands on my forearms. "Breathe," he says, his doctor voice both soothing and distracting. "Just breathe. There we go. Can you tell me your phone number?"

"Huh?"

"Your phone number."

I blink. "Uh, five, five..." I begin. I'm at the sixth number when my breathing settles. That doesn't stop the reason for my panic from weighing heavily on my heart. I hate this. I fucking hate this.

Carlisle remains on his knees in front of me. "Are you okay?"

"No, I'm not okay," I say sarcastically.

He ignores my snark. "Why do you think you weren't told?"

"Because my family thinks that I don't deserve to know," I offer, but we both know that isn't true. "Because they're trying to protect me. Because I'll come home and stay. Because they know this is my fault. I'm supposed to save - "

"Edward," he cuts me off. "Stop it now."

I shake my head.

"Logically, I know you know that none of this is your fault," he said. "You're a smart young man. It's not as if you _truly_ believe that all of this is actually your doing."

"Then why does it feel like it is?"

"Because your heart is too kind, and you're begging for someone or something to blame. Evidently, you've settled on blaming yourself."

I can hear what he's _not_ saying. I can hear it so clearly that it makes me sick to my stomach. I've chosen to blame myself because I can't bring myself to blame my father. To blame him for leaving us; to blame him for leaving _me_.

"Contrary to what you believe; this isn't all on you," he says solemnly, his gaze dropping to the ground in what I can only assume is shame. "Her treatment didn't work, Edward. If anything, that's a failure on my part."

I just stare at him for a moment, and just the tone of his voice tells me all I need to know. I feel ridiculous for never noticing it before. It's in his voice, and it's in his eyes. He's as broken up about this prognosis as I am, which means only one thing.

The question is out of my mouth before I can stop myself. "How long have you been in love with my mother?"

Carlisle doesn't so much as blink out of sync. Maybe he's been waiting for one of us kids to ask him this question for a while now. "Since I met her," he says, and I shrink back.

"It's been _years_ ," is the first thing I say, because I can't seem to bring up the fact that my dad was still alive when Carlisle and my mom first met.

"I know," he says soberly, leaning back slightly.

I shake my head. "Does she know?"

"Of course not."

"Why not?"

He looks at me with wide eyes. "Edward, are you seriously asking me that question?"

I nod. "Why haven't you told her?"

"Well, for starters, I'm her doctor," he said stonily; "It'd be inappropriate. And, what good would it do? It's clear that she's still in love with you father, and she definitely doesn't need me to make her last few months more complicated."

My heart lurches at the sound of his words. _Last few_ _months_.

Carlisle stands slightly, and shifts so that he can sit down in the chair next to mine. "Listen to me, Edward," he says; "you can't tell her."

"I won't."

He almost lets out a sigh of relief, when I speak again.

" _You_ will."

His eyes snap towards me. "What?"

"I don't think that knowing that she's loved by more than just her family will make things _complicated_ ," I say, and I mean it. "You have to tell her."

He looks at me as if I've lost my mind, and I think that I might have. It's definitely a possibility. I mean, I'm sitting here in my mom's doctor's office, practically demanding that he tell her that he loves her.

I've gone insane.

My mom is dying; I think I'm allowed my own version of a freakout.

In the end, Carlisle doesn't commit to anything. In fact, he's very diplomatic about _not_ telling me what I want to hear. He rather just answers questions about my mom and her own disease. I vaguely hear him reminding me to get checked often. Apparently I have genes that are susceptible to, well, _everything_.

I have a nasty thought and think that maybe it'll skip a generation and instead attack my children, like with Peter and Riley.

It causes me to think about Bella, and I feel an odd sense of guilt wash over me. There are things that I'm going to have to tell her, and then _she's_ going to have to think about it. Because, truly, if we do end up _trying_ , then I believe that it will be _it_. _For both of us_.

That's the part that's probably so terrifying. It feels like we're making a decision that's going to last a lifetime. But, then again, with the way things go in my family; a lifetime probably isn't all that long.

I'm not sure how I get home, but I do. Peter's car is in the driveway, but I know it's still too early in the day for it to be him, which means that Jasper and Emmett are at home. I suspect they'll have questions about my visit to the good doctor, but I'm not in the mood to discuss it.

The house is quiet as I move through it, and up to my bedroom. I don't even feel like seeing my mom, which is probably because I might burst out crying if I were to. She's going to know that I _know_ the second she lays eyes on me.

Which is why I stay holed up in my room until Jasper comes to find me.

"Tori's ordering pizza," he says, not commenting on the fact that I'm lying face-down on my bed and not moving. "Anything specific you want?"

I tell him no, and he leaves again. I think I'm saved from a conversation, but he returns minutes later and sits down on the edge of my bed. I know what he wants to talk about because, truly, I didn't tell him about my visit to the good doctor. She's worse than I thought, and I haven't yet told him.

And, frankly, _she_ didn't tell him the extent either, and I think that's the part that hurts him the most. He's like her third son.

Emmett's her fourth. Really, all my friends are her little brood. Rose even dropped by the day after Christmas. I don't think I've ever seen Emmett happier in my entire life. I wish they'd just make it official, so we can all get on with our - short - lives.

"How long?" Jasper asks.

I don't beat around the bush, as I turn my head to speak. "Four to six months."

He sucks in a breath. "Jesus Christ."

"I'm sorry, but He's not here right now," I mutter.

He hits my shoulder, much harder than necessary. "What else did he say?"

"What else do you think he said?"

"Is there really nothing else they can do?"

I sigh heavily. Carlisle and I did discuss this. It was probably during the 'bargaining' stage of my grief. "There's possibly a clinical trial in Houston that he might be able to get her into, but she's refusing. Apparently, she's accepted her fate, and she just wants to live out the rest of her days with her family."

Jasper takes a deep breath. "What does that mean for you?"

"Huh?"

"School, Edward," he says. "What about school? And what about Bella?"

I groan.

"Does she know?"

I don't even bother to lift my head to look at Jasper. "Does who know what?"

"Does Bella know about your mother?"

My silence is response enough for him.

"Fuck, Edward," he says, standing up and starting to pace. "What are you doing? What the fuck are you doing?"

"I don't know!" I snap back, my head lifting. "I don't fucking know, okay? I didn't tell her because I didn't want her to know. I didn't want her to be part of this life. If Bella didn't know then I could pretend that it wasn't really happening."

Jasper sighs heavily. "What are you doing, Edward?"

"I don't know," I say softly. "I really don't know, Jazz. All I know is that my mom is dying, and Riley is dying, and there's nothing I can do to stop any of it."

Jasper moves to sit back down on the edge of my bed, his body tense as he mulls over what I've just said.

Did I really not tell Bella about my mother because I was trying to ignore the possibility that, yes, she might die? That she's the kind of sick that you don't come back from? She's been sick before, but it's never been like this. It's never felt hopeless, because she's never allowed the cancer to take _that_ from her.

Now it's like she's giving up, and I _feel_ it.

She's _going_ to die.

I think I did, to be honest. Maybe I just didn't want Bella's pity. Or maybe I didn't want to give her any excuse to leave. Or worse, _stay_.

"Is that what Dr Cullen said?" Jasper asks, needing me to say it again. "She's _dying_?"

I just about manage a nod. "He's also in love with her."

Jasper's eyes widen. "What?"

I nod again.

"Well," he says; "It's difficult _not_ to fall in love with her."

I'm inclined to agree with him, but this situation is still a little too weird for me. I haven't yet spoken to my mom about what Carlisle and I did or didn't discuss and, truthfully, I'm not sure I want to. How does one even begin such a conversation?

I don't want to have to hear her tell me that we've spent our last Christmas together. Somehow, I just wish I'd known. I would have done more. I'd have taken her anywhere in the world; done absolutely anything and everything she wanted.

If she were to ask; I'd give her the entire world.

"I'll admit that even I'm a little in love with your mom," Jasper says softly. "I'm - I don't - " he stops. "Edward, I'm sorry. I am so sorry."

I don't tell him that it's okay, because it really isn't.

"I think maybe you should talk to Bella," he says after a while.

"I'll talk to her when we get back," I tell him, and I mean it. Bella's going to have know all of these before we can truly try. She deserves that much.

" _Are_ you going back?" he asks.

"Of course I am," I say. "Do you really think my mom would allow me to do anything but?"

He nods, because he knows what I'm talking about. My mom would throw a damn fit before she allowed me to derail my life for her. She already thinks that I do too much. Doesn't she realise that I'm the one who has to look after her? Peter has Charlotte and Riley to focus on, Tori's still too young... which leaves me.

"I invited the good doctor to tomorrow's dinner," I tell him. "I figure he should spend the New Year with us." I'm still not sure that it's a good idea, or even what I was thinking when I made the suggestion, but I'm a little bit glad that I did.

Jasper pats my shoulder. "Come down to dinner, Edward," he says. "Come spend time with your mother."

I roll over onto my back and stare at my ceiling for a moment. "Do you think my dad is calling her?" I ask, my voice barely a whisper.

"I wouldn't be surprised if he was," Jasper says. "Wouldn't you want her with you?"

" _I do_."

He sighs. I can tell that he doesn't know what to say. Maybe if he weren't to close to it all, he'd know what to say. But he is close. We all are. Our mother has four to six months to live, and I have no idea what I'm going to do.

I feel him put a hand on my shoulder. It's better than words, I reckon.

"Come on," he says. "Get up."

I do.

"Let's go."

We go.

And, just for a little while, I'm able to pretend that the great big world isn't falling apart all around me.


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter Eight**

"The fact that it's not raining has got to mean something," Tori says, getting my attention.

I rip my eyes from the night sky and spy my little sister walking towards me over my shoulder. She has a bowl of popcorn with her, which she's clutching very close to her body. I'm probably not going to be getting offered any of it. I might even have to resort to tickling.

"At least we'll get to see some fireworks this year."

"I reckon I've seen enough _fireworks_ for one holiday," I mutter, and I know she knows that I'm referring to her and her new boyfriend. Who apparently isn't even that new. I was apparently just left out of the loop of this new development as well.

"Oh, I'm sure you'd be just as sappy as James and I," she says, deftly punching my arm.

I shudder. "You two are on your own there, little T."

She's quiet for a moment, seemingly making a decision about something. Just from the determined look on her face; I should have known. "Mom told me about a girl named Bella."

A smile automatically spreads across my face at the mention of her name. I have to call her some time before midnight. If not only to wish her a Happy New Year; then just to hear her voice. I can feel us moving towards something; something _real_. Something important.

"Is she really the first daughter?"

I nod.

"That's insane, E."

I'm inclined to agree with her. It really is rather insane. Sometimes I don't even believe it. Bella's just Bella to me, and it's always a surprise to me whenever I'm reminded that Bella's so much more to other people. She's Isabella Swan, America's Sweetheart.

I'm about to make her mine.

"I've always wondered what they're all like," she tells me. "And her brother, Seth, is so hot. I mean, have you seen him? Have you _met_ him?"

I chuckle. "If this is how my family's going to act about it, imagine what the rest of the country is going to be like," I murmur.

"I think it'll be fine," she says, her voice so confident that I'm truly inclined to believe her. "Other people have made it work before you, you know?"

My head turns so I can look at her. "Well, whenever either of us is in doubt, we'll call you."

"And if you can get Seth to call me as well, that would be _great_."

I laugh out loud. "And what about James?"

"I love him," she says; "but he's no Seth."

"Poor guy. I kind of like him. I mean, if anyone can put up with you for any amount of time; then he's got to be something special, right?"

"Hey!" she squeals, chucking a handful of popcorn at me; "that's mean."

I look at her. What the hell? Is this whole family made up of squealers? I let us fall into silence, before I ask her a serious question. The mood has shifted anyway. "How are you, really, Tori?"

Her expression turns serious, and she links her arm with mine. "I'm getting by," she says. "People at school know. James has been a Godsend. He helps me forget."

Bella does the same thing for me. I feel a little guilty about it, actually. It's definitely something we're going to have to talk about. "I'm sorry," I say.

"It's not your fault, Edward."

Logically, I know she's right but, in my heart, I can't accept it. I feel like I've failed. I'm supposed to save her. My mom's supposed to live long enough that I _can_. She and Riley are the reasons I work so damn hard.

"She's ready," Tori says softly. "I think she's been ready for a while. She's fought so hard, and she knows herself better than anyone else."

"I just wish someone would have told me."

"And then what would you have done?"

I don't answer, because we both know that I would have turned my life inside out to make sure that our mom did everything possible to _live_.

"Make sure that you talk to her properly before you go back," she says solemnly. "I know you're angry and, yes, you had every right to be, but it's enough now, okay? You have to talk to her. Just, make peace, all right? Both of you need it."

I just nod.

"Good man." Tori kisses my cheek, squeezes my forearm, and then heads back inside, leaving me with my thoughts. My mind hasn't been able to relax since I arrived in Seattle, and I'm realistic enough to know it won't start now.

I stare up at the stars for a long moment, before I take out my phone and call Bella.

She answers on the fifth ring. "Hey you," she says, sounding breathless. "I was wondering if you were going to call."

I can't help my smile. "You could have called me, you know?"

"I was waiting until at least eleven thirty my time," she says, laughing lightly. "I didn't want to impose on time with your family."

"You would never be imposing," I assure her. "Are you having a good evening?"

"It's better now."

I close my eyes for a moment. What this girl does to me. "I've been thinking, Bella," I start. "You told me things about your life, before, and I, well, I haven't done the same."

She's silent on the other end of the line, patiently waiting for me to say whatever it is that I need to.

"There are things that I have to tell you about my life," I tell her. "About my parents, about my m - mom, and about my dad's death."

She lets out a steady breath. "Okay, Edward."

I want to tell her that I love her. Somehow, I just need her to know before all my skeletons come out of the closet. I need her to know, but I'm not nearly that selfish. So I settle for the next best thing. "I miss you, Bella."

"I miss you too," she says with no hesitation. "I also had a good, long conversation with my mother about you."

"You used the word 'good.'"

"I did."

I let out a long breath, fighting off my sudden rush of fear. If she's talking to her family about me, then that's good, right? "Do you know that you are literally across the country right now?" I say sadly.

"And what would you do if I wasn't?" she asks, her tone light and playful. I admit that it's a little disarming. She's never really been like this before, and I don't know how to handle it. It might be because she's with her family, or she could even be a little tipsy. Tonight is supposed to be a celebration, after all.

"Honestly?"

"Honestly."

"If you were with me right now, I can assure you that I would be holding you in my arms," I tell her. "Your back to my front as we stand on the front porch of my house, and watch the night sky. The stars are beautiful tonight, Bella. We don't even have to do anything else." The thing is that I mean it. I've only ever been with one girl, and that was in high school. Frankly, I haven't found a girl worth my time.

Well, that was until I met Bella Swan.

"Just, my arms wrapped around you, my chin on your shoulder, and your breath against my skin."

"Lips against my neck?"

My breath hitches. "Possibly." Then: "Probably against your lips, if I'm being completely honest."

She's silent for a moment. "I like it," she says quietly. "Thank you for calling, Edward. I didn't even realise how much I needed to hear your voice until I did."

"Like I said, Bella; you really could have called yourself."

"I'll bear that in mind for next year," she says, and my heart skips a beat. Next year? That's a really long way away, isn't it?

"I should probably head back," she says. "My brothers are getting a little rowdy. Swans and their alcohol, Edward. Sometimes it's not pretty."

"But it's hilarious?"

"Deathly."

I laugh. "All right, you better get going then. I'll, umm, message you later."

"Happy New Year, Edward Masen."

"Happy New Year to you too, Isabella Swan," I say. "I hope that this year brings you everything you've ever wanted."

"It's definitely looking up," she informs me, and my heart feels like it's going to burst. Why on earth did we spend _any_ time not doing this? "In my family, we always do this thing where we spend like five minutes spouting out all these ridiculous things about the new year, like 'the next time I shower will be next year' and 'the next time I eat will be next year.' My brothers can get really creative." She takes a breath. "So, I'd just like to say that the next time I talk to you will be next year."

All I can think about is that she said 'in my family.' "It sounds like it's a long way away."

"It's not that long."

I'm inclined to believe her.

When our call ends, I go back inside the house. My mother is sitting in the living room watching coverage of New Year's Eve in Times Square. Watching the Ball Drop is one of her favourite things to do. Has been since I can remember.

I move to sit down right beside her, and she looks surprised. I absolutely hate this. I don't want any of this to be happening.

This is probably the last time we'll be able to watch the Ball Drop together. I kind of wish I'd had the forethought to take her to New York City to watch it live. She deserves that. She deserves _more_. So much more.

I take hold of her right hand and hold it to my chest. Tori wants us to have a conversation, but my mom and I have never really needed words.

Her eyes are on me, and I feel them until I turn to look at her. Her eyes are shining with _something_ that makes my heart ache. How am I supposed to be happy when _this_ is happening? How can I? All the happiness that Bella brings will be tainted by _this_. How is that even healthy?

But this is my life now. I've survived it so far, and Esme Masen will make sure that we all survive what's to come.

"Happy New Year, Mom," I whisper, gently squeezing her fingers.

"Happy New Year, sweetheart."

"I'm sorry."

"Me too."

"I love you."

She smiles widely, tears in her eyes. "I love you too." She leans back and relaxes. I can practically feel the tension leave her body.

We sit for a while, in complete silence, until my mom lets out a small laugh. "Mom?"

She shakes her head. "Do you know that I practically had to bribe your nephew not to take his poster outside into the snow?" she asks, sounding deathly amused. "I swear, if he could; he'd bath with it."

I can't help my smile. Riley absolutely adores his _Spider-Man_ poster, and I couldn't wait to tell Bella all about it. Riley even wrote her a letter, which I'm to deliver back to Chicago. I'm supposed to give it to her as soon as I see her, but I don't have the heart to tell him that Bella and I kind of have something else to discuss first.

"Bella did a lovely thing for him," my mom says. "For you, as well."

"I know," I say. Because I do know. I'd never really be able to explain just what Bella does for me, but I _do_ know.

She kisses the side of my head. "So, Carlisle says that you're the one who invited him," she says; "is that true?"

I nod.

"When did you even do that?"

"When I went to see him," I reply truthfully. "I had some questions."

"About?"

"You."

Her eyes narrow for a moment. "Is there something you want to tell me?"

"Is there something _you_ want to tell _me_?"

She blushes. My mom actually blushes, and it's like nothing I've ever seen before. It sort of reminds me of Bella in a way, and I just know the two of them will get along. Not because they both blush - I mean, human beings blush - but because of who they are.

And, frankly, I love them both.

She's the one to change the subject. "Riley wants us all to go on a ferry before you boys head back," she informs me. "It'll probably be the last time that we'll all be together like this."

It's as if there's a hand squeezing at my heart, and it fucking hurts. "We'll go in the morning," I tell her. "He likes the early morning mist."

She nods her agreement. "Do you hate me, Edward?"

My eyes widen. "Of course not, mom. I just hate the situation."

" _Will_ you hate me? When I'm gone? When I leave?"

I open my mouth to speak, but she cuts me off.

"What I'm doing isn't the same as your father."

My breath hitches.

"Believe me, sweetheart," she continues. "This is it for me. I can feel it. The last thing I want is for you to hate me."

"I don't," I assure her. "I _won't_ , Mom. I promise I won't."

She pats my knee. "My wish for you is that this life becomes all that you want it to; that your dreams stay big, your worries stay small, and that you never need to carry more than you can hold."

I stare at her for a moment, before I burst out laughing. "Are you seriously quoting Rascal Flatts right now?" I ask.

She joins in the laughter. "They're wise men, I'm telling you."

"Sure, Mom." My phone vibrates in my pocket, and I fish it out. I've got a message from Bella, which is accompanied by a picture of her and her mother. Its caption is: **Hello, from the New Year... Also known as the future :)**

My mom giggles when I show it to her, and then she suggest we snap our own picture. She pulls me in close, and makes me take a shot of us. She also decides on the caption - **Wait for us?** \- and I happily oblige.

Bella's reply comes seconds later.

 **I think it's safe to say that we've waited long enough, Edward Masen. I reckon I'm done.** I suspect that that's a text for solely my eyes, because she sends another one straight after. **You and your mom are adorable, by the way. You have her eyes. And her smile.**

I look at my mom, and she's smiling at me. "What?" I ask.

"You do, you know?"

"I do what?"

"Have my smile."

It's the first time I notice that I actually am smiling. It must match hers. "I do, don't I?"

She runs a hand through my hair. "Yes, you do."

* * *

"D'you reckon they're all here because of Emmett, or because of Jasper?" I ask Eric Yorkie as we stand in the front foyer of the house and watch freshmen _mingle_ with our Upperclassmen.

"I think they're here for you," Eric says.

"Huh?"

The Sophomore laughs. "You're a bit of a legend," he informs me. " _And_ you're friends with Isabella Swan."

I can't stop my smile. _F_ _riends_ with Isabella Swan, huh? Sure I am.

"How many are we recruiting this year?" he asks me.

"Right now, the maximum is eight," I tell him. "We decided not to take in too many, given the fact that our Senior numbers are quite high for next year."

Eric nods his understanding. He's actually interested in this kind of stuff. If I didn't know any better, I would think that he was making a play for the Presidency, but I think that we know each other well enough that he would talk to me first.

I wouldn't be _against_ the idea of him running. It's just that I would still win. Hands down. It wouldn't even be a competition.

Wow, I really am sometimes an asshole.

"I love Recruitment Week!"

Eric and I turn our heads towards Emmett, who's grinning like a schoolboy as he approaches us. "And just what do you love about it?" I ask.

"These freshmen are so fucking cool, Masen," he says, clapping my back quite hard. "I mean, usually we get some of the riff raff - just look at Eric over here - but it looks like the cream of the crop has turned up."

I laugh. "So you reckon they can hang with the big boys then?"

He nods. "Oh, yeah, definitely." He punches Eric's shoulder. "Go mingle." Once the Sophomore is gone, he turns his attention to me. "Are you planning on saying anything more to our potential recruits?" he asks.

"No," I say, and I mean it. I feel like I've spent this entire week talking to potential recruits. They've gotten to know us through our casual sporting events, our service events and our fortnightly open Sunday-night dinners. It hasn't just been this week, but even the events from before the Break. "I think they know all they need to know. We'll send out our invitations tomorrow, and then see what happens."

"We've got a lot of boys eyeing the Sig Eps," he says. "Whitlock's already got his own list going, you know?"

I laugh. "I heard. Should I be worried?"

"Deathly."

"We'll convene in my room when the house clears out," I say. "We'll send out ten, and see what happens."

"Those Lambda Chi are set to poach."

I shrug. "I'm not really concerned," I say, and I mean it. There's no use trying to entice recruits with _things_. We're supposed to form relationships. We're supposed to become a family with these people.

By the time the house does empty of potential recruits, it's late enough that the other Sig Eps also retire to their own rooms. The first few days of the Winter Quarter have been like a shock to the system, particularly after the ease of the Christmas Break.

I've been all right, I think, but Bella isn't back yet. She's in Ohio somewhere for another night, and I honestly can't wait to see her. I think maybe it's better that I do deal with all the admin of my position before she and I have that all-important talk. Things change after that talk, and I need to be ready.

Jasper and Emmett are already in my room when I'm done with my final rounds of the house. It's what I usually do, morning and night. Sometimes I even check in with the other boys. It's important that they know that they _can_ talk to me if they so need to.

Jasper is sitting at my desk, the unaddressed invitation letters piled in front of him.

"Emmett says you have a list," I say to him, as I shut my door and make my way towards him. There's a clipboard on one of the shelves above my desk that has the list of interested recruits that I need to get. We have two 'Legacies' coming in, which is always interesting. Some of them can be _entitled_ , but we're very quick to put them in their place.

I almost smile.

Emmett is sprawled out across my bed. "It's fucking long, Masen."

I look at Jasper. "Jazz?"

The blond shrugs. "It's not _that_ long."

"How many?"

"Fifteen."

"Fuck."

He chuckles. "Let's discuss, Lamb Chop."

So we do. We spend the next two hours going through the official list, and couple it with Jasper's. Emmett takes into account all the interaction he'd witnessed with the Recruits and the members in the house. I take into account academic and _political_ standing. Ephraim was very clear about the kind of boys he wanted. No riff raff, and definitely not boys who could potentially _not_ afford the Chapter House.

"This Tanner guy was asking if you would tutor him," Emmett tells me. "You're on demand, bro."

I shake my head. "I thought I made it clear to everyone that I physically can _not_ fit in any more students to my schedule." Then: "You reckon he wants to join us just for that?"

"Like I said, Masen; you're on demand."

"And to think I was thinking of joining the track team."

Both of them just stare at me.

"Are you serious?" Jasper asks.

"I don't actually know."

"Is this about Bella? About your mom?"

I shrug. "I was just thinking about it. No decisions have been made, man. Can we finish up here, so I can get some sleep?"

Emmett and Jasper exchange a look. "Oh, you just want to get your beauty sleep, because your girl gets back tomorrow, doesn't she?"

"Shut up, McCarty."

Emmett laughs. "All right, all right."

I look at Jasper. "So we're decided then?" I wait for his nod. "Will you write the invitations out?" Another nod. "Now get the fuck out."

When I'm finally able to crawl into bed, it's the early morning. Even as I lie in bed, I just know that I won't be able to sleep. Bella is back tomorrow, and I'm both frightened and excited by the prospect of it. We're going to _talk_ , and I'm going to tell her about my family. She'll know, and then we'll move on from there.

The night moves slowly, and the day moves even slower.

Bella messages me when she lands - somewhere that isn't O'Hare, I suppose - and then she tells me that she'll pick me up at nine thirty this evening because, of course, I have a prior engagement.

I really am too busy to be trying to get myself a girlfriend. But, I've stuck with it for this long; I may as well see it through.

Hah.

"Will you sit still?"

I look at Jasper. "Will you shut up?"

He leaves me alone until nine thirty rolls around and Bella lets me know that she's outside. I tell Jasper that I'm leaving, and I leave Emmett in charge, though I'm sure that Jasper will do most of the Vice President work. Emmett's easily distracted sometimes.

I head out the front door, shuffle to my left, and slip into the neighbour's yard. When I spot the black SUV, my heart starts to race. Bella's right there. She's right there, and I'm going to see her, in three two one.

The back door opens, and I practically dive into the backseat of the car, the door closing again. My head comes to rest on Bella's lap. "Hi," I say, looking up at her and smiling as the car immediately starts to move.

She gently runs a hand through my hair. "Hello, you."

"Why did you take so long to come back?" I whine. "I've been going crazy in this place without you."

"You were fine."

"That's what _you_ think."

She shakes her head. "Are you staying down there, or are you going to sit up?"

I huff. "That depends. Where are you taking me?"

"It's my intention to throw you off a cliff."

"Just my kind of girl."

She laughs lightly, and I've missed that sound. "I thought we could go somewhere quiet," she says. "You said that you wanted to talk."

I sit up, but I don't move away from her. "I do want to talk."

"Then that's what we'll do."

Bella spends the next fifteen minutes telling me about what her week was like on the campaign trail in Ohio with her mother. Because of school, she's not expected to be overly involved, though her parents do expect her to make appearances when she can.

She reasons that it makes sense for her to leave Illinois the same times that I do, and I can't even explain to her how warm that makes me feel.

When the car comes to a stop, I realise that we're in front of Jefferson Library. A library that closes at nine o'clock.

"Bella?" I query, checking my watch. I'm not wrong. The library should be closed for the evening. And yet...

"Come on," she says, as her door opens and she climbs out.

I'm expected to follow, so I do. I shut the door behind us, just as Harry emerges from the driver's side.

"It's safe," he says. "We had Marcus do a sweep."

"Okay," Bella says over her shoulder, before she blindly reaches for my hand and tugs me up the steps towards the front doors. She pushes through the large turnstile doors, and then we're inside. It's so quiet, and only the dim lights are on.

"Are you sure it's safe?" I whisper, tugging her closer to me as we walk.

She glances at me. "Are you scared?"

"No."

She stops walking. "Edward, tell me the truth."

I release her hand and slip an arm around her shoulders, hugging her to me. "By all means, lead the way, Miss Swan," I say. "Just know that I expect you to fight the big bad guys when they come out of the shadows."

"Don't you worry; I'll protect you."

I kiss the side of her head, absently breathing her in. "I'm going to hold you to that."

Bella takes us to a small nook, which houses one of the most comfortable couches I've ever seen. It's big and puffy, and oh so inviting.

Without a word to me, she slips off her coat, and I do the same. She sits down and tugs me down beside her, before she snuggles into my side. "Now, what is it that you want to talk about?"

I don't know if I'll be able to do this with her so close. Seriously, I can smell the strawberries in her hair. How am I supposed to concentrate when she's right here? I can practically feel the heat of her through my cardigan.

I make a move to release her, and she lets me. I shift to one end of the couch and turn my body to face her. "You're a little too intoxicating," I tell her. "I can't quite think straight."

Of course, she blushes, and I have to resist the urge to fly across this couch and attack her lips with my own.

"I have to tell you some things, Bella," I say. "It's important that you know them before we really do this. I didn't tell you before, because I think I liked the fact that you didn't know; that I could pretend that that part of my life didn't exist when I was with you. Which is a stupid thought, I know. I just, well, I've had to face reality now, and you should know that my life is definitely not sunshine and roses."

She sits perfectly still as she listens, hanging on my every word.

"My mom was first diagnosed with breast cancer when I was ten," I begin, and her eyes widen in surprise. "It was just in the one breast, and they had it surgically removed. She wore a prosthetic for years, because she refused to have a 'boob job.' She's always been so proud, you know?" I look down at my hands in my lap. "The summer after my junior year of high school, it came back. She didn't tell us until they scheduled her for another mastectomy. It was supposed to work, you know, like it did the last time. Only, it didn't.

"Our healthcare was already shitty..." I trail off here, knowing that she probably knows that her father may or may not be a factor in just why that is. "So we blew through our savings with the chemo and the radiation. It was hard on my dad, because he could see it happening, you know? He could see the money going, and he could see her not getting better. I had a college fund, sort of... My plan was to work through college. My dad said that I should do all I can not to take out student loans, because he didn't want me to start off in the workforce with that kind of debt over my head.

"I don't really know what happened," I say. "I think he thought he was out of options. I think maybe he went a little crazy at the end, because only someone who was desperate would do what he did." I fall silent, trying to find the words. "My dad died in a car accident," I finally say. "His brother was driving at the time, and he's the one who survived."

Her face is completely expressionless now, but her eyes tell me more than I ever thought I wanted to know.

"There was an investigation," I tell her. "By my dad's insurance company; apparently it's standard procedure, and their findings were damning." I laugh humourlessly. "My dad is such a fucking idiot," I hiss, but she doesn't react. "We were doing _fine_. We were making it work. But then he had to decide that we'd be better off with his life insurance money instead of him." I notice her eyes widen, and I know that she _knows_ now _._ "It turns out that my dad was the one actually driving, and my uncle just said that he was, because he didn't want there to be any questions asked. But there were, and then there were answers.

"He killed himself." I very rarely say it out loud, and it completely winds me. "My uncle told me later, after they arrested him for insurance fraud, that my dad just _snapped_. He was watching his wife die, his money disappear, and his children suffer. He just left us. He left us! He left _me_ , Bella!"

In a flash, Bella's in front of me, her fingers wiping away the angry tears on my cheeks.

I close my eyes tight. I don't want to see her face. "I hate him!" I say through gritted teeth. "I fucking hate him!"

Bella doesn't say anything. She just continues to run her fingers over my skin and through my hair.

My eyes fly open. "Do you know what we've had to do? Without him, and without my uncle!" I shake my head. "I mean, fuck! They were going to take our house, but Peter and his wife, Charlotte, moved back in, and somehow we settled the ship. I wasn't going to come here, you know? I was going to go to State or something, but my mom said that it was okay. She said I could, so I did. I signed those forms, Bella, and now the banks _own_ me. I'll never get out from under them." I jerk back, out of her grasp. "You know what's so funny now though? She went into remission."

Bella just blinks, clearly deciding that she's not going to say anything until I've got it all out.

"It was a miracle," I tell her. "Or something like that. The entire thing is so fucking ridiculous." I feel my body go limp. "And, while we're all basking in all of this wonder... Riley... My poor, baby Riley. I just - I couldn't believe it. How could it be? He was so small, and so healthy. It didn't make sense.

"He's the reason I switched to Pre-Med," I say. "He's the reason I got all these jobs; he's the reason I moved into a Chapter House. I was going to do everything I could to help my brother, because we weren't going to lose him, Bella. I mean, what kind of fucked up family do I have? How fucked up must my DNA be?" I tug on the roots of my hair. "And then he went into remission. He's young and he's a fighter.

"But everything is different now." I drop my head, and my voice goes with it. "Riley's sick again, and so is my mom. She's not responding to treatment, and they're using that terrifying m-word when they refer to her. Do you know how scary it is to hear the word 'metastasised?' It's paralysing. I feel paralysed; like I'm just frozen in this space and time while my family just falls apart around me. I'm just holding on... I'm holding on for dear life here, Bella." I'm crying so hard that I can barely see.

Bella wraps her arms around my shoulders and holds me close, soothing me with quiet assurances that I'm okay; that it's going to be okay. I don't believe her, but her soft voice does wonders to my racing heart. Her fingers in my hair are so comforting.

I don't know for how long she holds me, but I eventually calm down enough to wipe at my own eyes. I take a deep breath when she releases me and, for a while, we just look at each other.

"I'm sorry I don't have a tissue," she says quietly.

I just about manage a smile.

Bella takes hold of one of my hands and squeezes it gently. "I can't imagine what you've gone through," she whispers. "I'm so, so sorry." She lifts my hand and kisses its back. "I'm also sorry for adding to it."

"I love you."

Her eyes widen, and her grip on my hand goes slack.

"Oh God," I groan. I _did not_ just say that. "Bella, don't freak out."

"Don't _freak out_?"

I blink. "Okay, just, you know, don't bolt or anything, okay? Just - " I stop. "Wait. I tell you all about my fucked up genes and perilous family situation, and you're fine... But I tell you I love you and you freak out? What's up with that?"

Bella just stares at me.

I stare back.

A moment later, we both burst out laughing. It's the uncontrollable kind; almost maniacal in sound. I can't seem to stop, and neither can she. What the hell is wrong with us? The air is so emotionally charged and, the moment we make eye contact, it ignites.

Because then we're kissing.

We meet halfway, lips crashing against lips, teeth scraping teeth and tongues battling. If I were thinking clearly, I'd probably want to take it down a notch. I mean, I always expected out first kiss to be something sweet and gentle; not this passionate fight for dominance.

Bella's hands are in my hair, tugging _hard_ , and my hands are already under her top, claiming the soft skin of her back. I'm so lost in her; I can't even think. What are we doing? What the fuck are we doing?

Bella's hands abandon my hair, and run down my neck to my chest, where she fists the fabric of my cardigan and _tugs_. She falls back on the couch, taking me with her. I don't know if I wind her, because she lets out a puff of air, and then she laughs.

"Edward," she whispers, sounding breathless.

"Bella," I say, my lips against the skin of her neck.

Her fingers are back in my hair, and she uses them to lift my head so she can look at me. "I'm not freaking out," she says.

My eyebrows rise up. "You're not?"

"I most definitely am not."

I smile. "That's good to hear." This time, when I kiss her, it's much gentler, slower, and I feel like I'm telling her I love her over and over with each caress. I'm not surprised that she hasn't said it back. I mean, we haven't even been on a first date yet. What on earth was I thinking? I'm just so relieved that she's still here, lying beneath me, and just letting me love her.

Truthfully, I don't know for how long we stay in that position, but the sound of a throat clearing forces Bella to push on my chest. She's completely flushed, her lips swollen and her eyes utterly dazed. I climb off of her, and just about manage to hide myself as she addresses Harry. I'm barely listening as I try to calm myself down.

Suddenly, Bella's hand is on my thigh. "We have to get going," she says, squeezing my leg. "Are you ready?"

I just about manage a nod.

Bella glances down at my lap. "Do you need a minute?"

I laugh nervously. "This is your fault," I tell her.

"I should hope it is."

I lean into her to steal a kiss. "Have I told you lately that I missed you?"

"I think you mentioned it."

This has probably been the greatest night of my entire life. And the worst, somehow. I haven't had to talk about my dad that way since Makenna. I'm probably going to have to tell Bella about her at some point as well. At what point do we discuss ex-girlfriends and ex-boyfriends?

By the time I'm ready to go, it's _really_ late. Bella leads the way back out, her hand in mine. Okay. This _has_ been the best night of my life. Officially. I feel that notion reaffirmed every time Bella looks over her shoulder and smiles at me. She has my heart. She really does.

Frankly, I don't think that I've had my own heart since I met her.

We sit really close together in the backseat of the black SUV. Really, I don't know where I end and where she begins. She's not saying anything, and I don't want to break the silence either. But I have to, before we get back to Fraternity Quad.

"Bella?" I whisper.

"Hmm?"

"Can we just talk about something quickly?"

"What's up?"

I take a breath. "I don't want to be that guy, but I already _am_ , so I have to ask: does this make you my girlfriend?"

She shifts to look at me. "I don't know; does it?"

I look into her eyes, losing myself in their depth. "Will you be my girlfriend?" I ask.

She smiles brilliantly. "Edward. Manners."

I laugh out loud. " _Please_ will you be my girlfriend?"

She answers me with a kiss, sighing against my mouth. "It's not going to be easy," she eventually says. "When they find out; it's going to be _a thing_."

"I suspect as much."

She takes a deep breath. "Promise me that you'll tell me if you ever start to feel like you can't handle it, okay?"

"I promise."

She kisses me again, and we don't exchange any more words until Harry pulls up in our favourite side street.

"Soon, you're going to be pulling up front," I say, my fingers running through her hair.

She watches my movements with wide eyes. "Full disclosure, Edward."

We bid each other goodnight, which takes longer than Harry and Billy care to know. I don't really want to go, and it's clear that Bella doesn't want me to go either. I can barely worry about the morning, when I'm here with her right now.

Eventually, I do go inside. My entire being is electrified, and there's no point in trying to get to sleep. I do the rounds quickly, checking the various rooms; ensuring that lights are off and that there isn't any open food left lying out. It's a certain way to invite unwanted friends.

I'm a little exhausted when I make it to my bedroom, so I make quick work of getting ready for bed. I'm tempted not to get undressed, because I smell like Bella. Eventually, I do strip, and then I crawl into bed. I'm just conscious enough to see that I have a message.

From Bella.

 **Bella: Hold onto me, Edward. You can hold onto me as tightly as you need to. I promise you that I'm not going anywhere. Xx**


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter Nine**

Bella isn't completely wrong.

When news breaks of our 'romance,' there's quite a bit of interest in me and, inevitably, my family. It's a lot, but it is quick, borderline painless, and then the interest sort of falls away. Bella says that it'll come in waves. They might even use our new relationship to derail her father's campaign somehow but, for right now, I suppose that the very idea of me is enough. Maybe they were expecting someone more exciting than plain old Edward Masen.

Not that I'm complaining. Bella doesn't seem to either. I don't really have skeletons in my closet, save for a dead father and an uncle in jail.

I'm just glad that we recruited before the prospect of Bella in our house was a thing. It's not as if she visits me all that often, but she does visit me. She normally doesn't stay for long. Even though there haven't been many news stories about our relationship; it doesn't mean that there haven't been _any_. It's best that we not give them things to talk about, and Bella's staying the night would just be too juicy to pass up.

Bella and I do get to go on our first date. It's an odd evening, to say the least. It's just that it wasn't only the two of us. I made plans for a rather quiet night and, well, it was anything but. I'm just glad that we finally got it out of the way, so to speak.

The thing is that she had to beg Harry and Billy to let me drive her in the OB, and I think that Harry might have actually given in until he just vehemently refused. So, really, it was a group date. I suppose, all the talk about us has put him on alert, and I can't say that I blame him. Bella attracts attention just by being.

Even _I'm_ on alert. It's amazing what just knowing that Bella would date one of her fellow students can do to the brains of adolescent males. It truly amazes me that going off the market has made people all the more forward. I suppose that I'm glad we're not hiding. I just, well, still wish people didn't know. There are lots of people who don't have nice things to say, about her, about me; about both of us.

"Are you jealous?" Bella asks me one evening, as she lies on my bed, an open textbook in her lap.

"What?"

"Edward Masen," she says, her eyes narrowing. "Will you stop reading that rubbish?"

I can't stop. My eyes are focused on the computer screen in front of me. "Bella, have you seen this?" I ask, disbelief in my tone. "I mean, just how many marriage proposals do you get in a day?"

She sighs dramatically. "Oh my God, please will you stop?" she groans. "You weren't like this before?"

"Well, before, I didn't have to deal with the Internet thinking that you can do better than me," I say with a huff. "Do you really think that my nose is crooked?"

"Edward," she groans again, shifting her textbook to the side. "Come here."

"No."

"Come. Here."

With yet another huff, I stand up and make my way to the foot of my bed. I stand and stare at her for a moment in complete and utter wonder. Seriously, how did I get so lucky? She looks flushed, and I determine that I never want her to leave my bed.

She crooks her finger at me, beckoning me towards her.

I can't resist. I climb onto the bed and crawl towards her, and then over her. She pulls me down onto her and wraps her arms around my shoulders, her legs trapping my left one. My entire body relaxes immediately.

"I don't think your nose is crooked," she whispers into my ear. "I actually think you're a rather beautiful boy, Edward Masen."

I lift my head to look at her. "Beautiful?"

She nods.

"Try again."

"So needy."

I laugh. "Bella," I whine.

"I do think you're rather beautiful, Edward," she says. "And super smokin' hot."

"That's better."

She kisses my cheek. "It's your eyes though," she lets me know. "And your amazing sex hair. Your, what, chiselled jaw. Your red ears; they're actually my favourite part about you." She brings my head down and kisses my left ear. "It's also your fingers."

"My fingers?"

"They look like music fingers."

I gently kiss the underside of her chin. "I don't know what that means."

"They're long, slender, and just the kind of hands that are made for music."

I stare at her for a moment. "Do you know?"

"Do I know what?"

"I haven't done a lot of things since my dad died, and one of those things is playing music," I tell her. "I used to play piano like it was religion. I even used to compose."

She smiles at me, and it's that bright smile that practically lights up the room. She's kept it hidden for so long. "Will I ever get to hear some?" she asks.

I blink. "I don't know."

"Someday?"

I can at least agree to that. "Someday."

We kiss for a moment. Okay, maybe for more than a moment. I just can't seem to get over her perfect mouth, and the things that it can do to me. When she pulls away, she looks thoughtful.

"What?"

"You said that you haven't done a lot of things since your dad passed," she reminds me; "what else is on the list?"

I swallow thickly. "Well, umm, I haven't been able to listen to an Elvis Presley song," I tell her. "He was a firm favourite. I also haven't been able to visit my dad's grave. I just, I can't bring myself to do it."

She just nods in understanding.

"And I also haven't had sex."

It's almost comical the way that Bella stiffens beneath me. "But, Edward, it's been _years_."

"I know," I say. I don't really know what explanation I have, but I have to say something, surely. I mean, I don't want her to think I don't want sex, because I do. I really do. I mean, have you seen her? "It's just, well, I was with my girlfriend, Makenna, when he died. We'd been together for almost a year by then. She was my first and only." I laugh nervously. "After he died, everything just shifted into perspective, you know? My priorities changed dramatically, and she didn't like where she'd been relegated to. We broke up shortly after, and that was that.

"For a long while, girls have been on the back burner. I was more concerned with my grades and paying the bills at that point in my life. It doesn't mean I didn't date. Remember Tanya? That was probably the worst decision of my life. All she wanted was to get into my bed, and I later found out that the Deltas have this kind of scoreboard about who can sleep with the most boys from any one fraternity, the same way that some frats do with a certain sorority. I was not going to be one of those boys.

"So I was happily single, just getting along through my days until I met you and, well, I fell hard. You're in me, Bella, and I wouldn't have it any other way."

She raises her eyebrows. "Is that your truly roundabout way of telling me that you want to sleep with me?"

I cough from my surprise. "Uh... yes?"

"I see."

"What do you see?"

"I'm not going to sleep with you," she says, the corners of her mouth turning upwards slightly. Her mouth moves to say the word 'yet,' but she stops herself. This is part of a discussion that I know we're going to have to have some day. Soon, I hope. "Do you think you can handle that?"

"Bella, I told you that my favourite part of our dream on New Year's night was holding you close," I remind her. "I think I'll manage just fine."

"Is it something that you expect now that we're together?"

"I don't expect anything," I tell her. "I just want to be with you. I just want to love you."

She brings my head down and kisses me thoroughly. She still hasn't told me that she loves me, but that's okay. As far as dating-wise goes; it hasn't been all that long, and I'm definitely not going to push her. She'll tell me when she's ready, right?

"Edward?"

"Hmm?"

"Your phone is ringing."

My phone? I climb off of her, and the bed, in search of it. I find it on my desk and, for a moment, I panic. "Uh, Bella, it's a video call from my mom," I tell the girl on my bed. "Are you - Can I - Can we - "

She eventually cuts in. "Answer the phone, Edward."

So I do. My smile instantly splits my face when my mom's face shows up on my screen. "Hi, Mom."

"Hello, sweetheart."

I don't know why I blush, but I do. I mean, maybe it's because she just called me 'sweetheart' in front of my girlfriend, but I don't know. "Bella's here."

Cue the squeal. "Let me see her," she says happily; "Oh, this is so exciting!"

I look at Bella, and I'm surprised by her facial expression. "Are you nervous?" I mouth to her.

She jerks her head no, but I can tell that she is.

I can't help my laugh as I make my way back to her and climb onto the bed. I shift into position right beside her and shift my phone so that my mom can see both of us. "You're okay," I whisper to Bella, trying to be assuring, and then I address my mom. "Mom, this is Isabella Swan. Bella, meet my mother, Esme Masen."

There's just the slightest bit of hesitancy from both of them, but then my mom starts speaking; and I'm basically forgotten about. They talk endlessly, their sentences running onto each other's. It's a little frightening, but it still fills me with sublime warmth.

"Is he even paying attention?" I hear my mom ask.

My eyes snap to the phone. "Oh, are you talking to me now?" I ask, and they both laugh.

"I should probably get going," my mom says. "It's getting late."

"How's Riley?" I ask her.

"Well." Her quick reply tells me that it's the truth. "We all are, sweetheart. Please don't worry so much."

She knows that her words will do nothing. "I'll try to come out the first weekend in February," I tell her.

She lets out a small sigh. "Okay, honey."

The three of us spend the next few minutes trying to say goodbye. My mom passes on some parting advice that has Bella and me both blushing like schoolchildren, and then she hangs up.

"Sorry about that," I mutter, as I set my phone down on my night stand. When I look back at her; Bella is smiling that brilliant smile at me, and I'm floored. "What?" I ask her.

She nibbles on her bottom lip for a moment. "I love your mom," she declares, and I have to laugh. It really is almost impossible not to love her. Though, I have to admit that I'm a little jealous. She loves my mom, but not me.

"I think she's quite fond of you too," I tell her.

"I was worried," she confesses, snuggling into my side. "I wanted her to like me."

"You had nothing to worry about."

"I guess, I thought that she might resent me for making us wait as long as we did for this." She shakes her head. "You're her son. That makes sense, right?"

It does make sense. "I think everything from before can be set aside, because she knows just how happy I am."

"Are you?" she asks, looking at me through her lashes. "Are you happy, Edward?"

"I'm trying to be," I say, my voice smaller that intended. It's hard to stay happy when everything that's happening is happening, but I really am trying. "I know it's what she wants for me."

For a moment, Bella says and does nothing. Then, she climbs onto me, straddling my legs and forcing me to look at her. She has my face in her hands, and I don't think I've ever felt safer. This girl is so important. She is everything.

"I want you to know something," Bella says, her fingers tracing the lines of my face. "Something important."

"I'm listening."

"Even from the short time that I spoke to your mom, I know that she's proud of you, Edward." She kisses my lips gently. "It's plain to see. She absolutely loves you."

I just nod, my gaze never straying from her face.

"And I absolutely love you too."

* * *

The end of January flies by.

It isn't that I get used to all the stares, or the incessant questions about my relationship with Bella - from complete strangers, might I add - but it all pales in comparison to how it feels to be with Bella. She's worried, of course, that it's all a distraction from my work and from my life, but I constantly have to tell her that I'm okay.

I make sure that I never say the words: "I can handle it," to her. It seems to bring up bad memories, or she just can't bring herself to believe the words. So I don't say them. I rather tell her that I love her every opportunity I can. It's my favourite thing to do because I absolutely adore making her blush. And she does, every time. Every time.

We're going about our days one at a time, figuring everything out as we go along. What helps is the fact that there are places on campus that we can go to escape it all. As long as we stay out of the truly 'public' spaces that reporters are allowed; we're pretty much left alone. It makes the campus feel that much smaller, but I'm done complaining. It gets me nowhere, I've learned. The hard way, might I add.

Bella's moods start to depend on whether we're accosted during the day. I can't imagine what it must be like for her on a normal day, but with the campaign and with me; it must be that bit _more_. She spends most of her time in her room, in class, in the library or in my room. On my bed. Tempting me.

Now that I can kiss her whenever I want to, it's difficult not to. It's one of the reasons why I usually leave her to my bed, and remain seated in my desk chair. I'm a safe enough distance from her to think clearly enough to work on my upcoming assignment report.

But there is something that's niggling at me, begging to be addressed. It doesn't take me all that long to work up the courage to discuss it, because this is what we do now. We talk, in a real, full disclosure way, and I love it. As hard as it was to get to this point, I can't help but feel as if it were all worth it.

"Bella?"

She looks up from her novel, her eyes slightly unfocused as she zeroes in on me. "Hmm?"

"Can I ask you a question?"

She can probably hear the severity in my voice, because she sets her book aside and gives me her full attention. "What's up?"

I take a breath, steeling myself. "I don't intend to overstep, but, umm, have you actually spoken to your father about all of this?"

"All of what?"

" _This_ , Bella," I say. "About how you feel about all this added attention because of the campaign, about how you feel about the fact that he's running again, and about how you feel about _me_."

Bella drops her gaze. This is a topic that we've avoided for quite some time, but it's something we need to talk about. She's talked to her mother about her worries, but not her father. And I know that she doesn't have a bad relationship with her father. It's just strained at the moment, and the last thing I want is to add to it.

I stand up from my desk and move to kneel on the floor next to where she's reclined on my bed. I take hold of one of her hands and tug until she's looking at me. "I mean, I assume that the President has a cellphone, right?"

She lets out an unexpected laugh, and I hold back my grin. "He does," she says; "but it's one of those old things that can't be hacked. He absolutely loves it." She manages a smile. "He's never really been good with technology."

I just nod, because I can understand that. My dad was pretty useless with it as well. Only Tori had enough patience for him whenever technology got the better of him. In my mind, I acknowledge the fact that I'm more inclined towards Bella talking to her father because I'm unable to talk to mine. It's nothing that I have control over, and I'm convinced that she already knows as well.

Eventually, Bella sighs. "What exactly am I supposed to tell him, Edward?"

I still haven't managed to get over how it feels to hear her say my name. Truly, it has to be illegal or something. "The truth," I offer.

"It'll just make him feel awful," she counters, taking her hand out of mine and shifting her body so she's facing me full-on. "He already has enough to worry about. It's not exactly easy doing his job, you know?"

"But you're his daughter."

" _And_ he's the President of the United States," she argues. "I'm sorry, but that's just the way it is."

"You told me that he made sure that you knew that he was a father first," I press. "Bella?"

"Edward."

I sigh. "Will you at least think about it?"

She presses her lips together, before she nods. She takes hold of my hand again, and pulls me towards her. As soon as she kisses me, our conversation is forgotten, and our work is properly discarded for the time being.

I climb onto the bed, and settle on top of her, moulding my body against hers. Her arms hug my shoulders, her fingers take claim of my hair, and she locks her ankles behind my back. She has me right where she wants me, and I wouldn't ever dream of moving.

Though I do.

I grind my hips against hers, and her answering gasp - which turns into a moan - spurs me on. This is territory for us yet explored, but I'm just going to roll with it. She was very clear when she told me she wouldn't sleep with me, and I'm willing to wait until she's sure.

Because I am.

I am so very sure.

Though, I'm quite certain that I don't want our first time to be in a frat house. Bella deserves more that that, definitely.

Before things go any further, there's a knock on my door that has me scrambling off of Bella and up on my feet in next to no time, almost relieved for the distraction. She gives me an odd look, but I ignore it, as I move towards my door.

I unlock and open it, poking my head through to spy Jasper looking rather sheepish.

"Hope I'm not interrupting anything," he says.

"Shut up," I hiss. "What is it?"

"Uh, Harry's asking for Bella," he says. "Apparently she's not answering her phone."

I'm suddenly keenly aware that my ears are red. There's a reason she wasn't answering her phone, and that reason is me. I was practically dry-humping the First Daughter five seconds ago. "Okay," I say.

He grins at me. "Okay."

"Shut up," I hiss again, and then slam the door.

Bella is already sitting up on the edge of my bed when I turn back to look at her. She's putting on her shoes, her phone just to her left, and I'm not going to tell her to stop. She keeps giving me a curious look, but she says nothing.

I help her with her coat when she stands up. "What's he saying?" I ask, referring to Harry.

She takes a deep breath. "My brother's here," she tells me.

That gets my attention. "Which one?" I ask.

"Seth." She shakes her head. "He's the only one who would come all the way to Chicago and not tell me about it."

I blink. Seth. My sister would kill me if I didn't at least - what? What am I supposed to do? "Tori thinks he's hot," I blurt out, and Bella bursts out laughing.

"Is that something you want me to tell him?"

I shrug. "Just, you know, if Tori ever asks; make sure she knows that I mentioned it. But maybe just not the way I did."

"I'll remember that."

I kiss her forehead, and she gives me that curious look again. My mind goes back and forth between asking her about it or not, but then decide that I'll regret it if I don't. "Bella, is everything okay?"

"Everything's fine," she says, but I know it isn't. There's something on her mind, but she's decided that now isn't the time to discuss it.

As a result, I let it be. I'm an actual professional when it comes to having patience concerning Isabella Swan. I deserve a doctorate or something.

"You should probably bear in mind that Seth will want to meet you."

My eyes widen. "What?"

"It's probably why he's here," she says. "The idiot."

I step back. "Bella?"

"My father probably sent him," she says. "Or my mother. Or he sent himself. Truly, Edward, he's a complete idiot."

I just nod.

"But, then again, you're safer with Seth," she informs me. "Sam and Jared would probably eat you for breakfast."

I stand up straight. "I could take them."

"Sure you could."

I puff out my chest. "Watch me."

Her features soften, and it looks like she's making another decision about me. She usually does this, and it's something that I quite love. It's the reason we're even here right now. It's the reason we're together. "Is that something you would want?" she asks. "To meet my family?"

"Is that something _you_ want?"

"To meet yours? Or for you to meet mine?"

"Both."

She takes a deep breath. "That's big, isn't it?"

I nod.

"We have time, Edward," she says.

It's the first time that either of us has mentioned the prospect of our future. One that we're hopefully going to be spending together. I sigh. It's also a future in which I'm going to lose my mother.

Maybe we don't have that much time after all.

Bella reaches up and kisses the corner of my mouth. "I should get going," she says. "Keep your phone on, all right," she tells me. "Maybe we can do coffee tomorrow?"

"I'm free after Medical Imaging," I remind her. "So, any time after two o'clock."

"Aren't you tutoring at three?"

I glance over my shoulder and my timetable pinned up on my wall. "Wednesday," I say thoughtfully. "Uh, yes, I think. Justin and Hannah swapped times this week. I can't remember if I'm off or not." I make a mental note to check with my students. "Are you trying to tell me that one hour won't be enough?"

"Not if it's his attention to interrogate you."

I raise my eyebrows. "Is it?"

"Try not to worry about it too much," she says.

"That's not helping."

"I thought you said you could take them," she counters teasingly, and I feel myself relax slightly. I don't want to worry about this, so I don't. It's no secret that I have so many other things to worry about.

I smile at her. "Can we all just take a moment to acknowledge that Bella Swan knows my timetable off by heart?" I practically sing, and she blushes. She kisses me one more time, letting her lips linger, before she slips out my door. Apparently she doesn't need me to walk her out anymore, but I still stand on the landing and watch her exit the house. Who knows what could happen between my bedroom and the front door?

After Bella leaves, I return to my work. It's been quite difficult balancing everything, but I think I'm doing well. Bella acknowledges the importance of my school work, and I appreciate her for it. Naturally, her course load isn't as intense as mine is, but she works hard in her own way. Her core courses are leaning towards Pre-Law, but she's kept her options open. I admire the fact that she might want to teach, but I imagine she's worried about how that's all affected because of her First Daughter status.

She doesn't want the privilege that comes with her father's position when it comes to looking for jobs. I have to remind her that she's only in her first year; she's got plenty of time to worry about all of that at a later time. It seems to me that she's constantly worrying about everything.

I want to ease it all for her, and I get the feeling that she wants to do the same for me as well. We're quite the pair, aren't we?

With Seth in town, I don't hear much from Bella until she calls me to schedule that coffee. She sounds calm, even a little carefree, and it makes me wonder about who she is when she's with her family. She just seems so different; as if the burdens of being the First Daughter have lifted. I feel a twang of hurt that she hasn't managed to be that way when she's with me.

We have things to work through, that's for sure, but I'm convinced we'll get there one day. I know there will be a day when all of this is just _easy_.

As discussed, I meet Bella and Seth for coffee on Wednesday after Medical Imaging lets out. Because of the switch in tutoring, I have a maximum of two hours before I meet with Tanner - the little bitch who managed to weasel his way onto my roster - and then head to a shift at the library.

We meet at a place called _Cassis_ , and it's quaint, quiet, and just the kind of place that two of the First Children could empty out if they so chose to. Marcus picks me up in Fraternity Quad. Apparently, I'm not allowed to drive myself. I think that Harry just hates my car, though I can't imagine why. It's orange, and it's fucking beautiful.

Jasper loves that I rarely get to drive myself to meet Bella these days, because he has the keys more often than I do. We still haven't spoken about the entire Alice and Jessica situation, but he's not acting like a caveman anymore. I can't help but think that my mother ended up speaking to him. The woman has a way of just shifting everything into perspective. I wonder at what point he'll realise that Alice is the best thing to ever happen to him.

If I'm being honest, I'm a little nervous about meeting Bella's brother. I can talk a good talk, but my hands are shaking, and I'm certain that the tips of my ears are red. Bella's smile when she spots me is indicative of that. She even tugs on one of my ears when she hugs me hello.

Seth, admittedly, doesn't look all that much like Bella. Their hair colour is probably the only resemblance. He looks like a child in a man's body, constantly bouncing or something of the other. He wouldn't be able to be intimidating if he tried, because he has such a baby-face. He's taller than Bella. Hell, he's even taller than me, with shining hazel eyes and a schoolboy smile. I can see why my sister likes him.

I'm borderline horrified when Bella does bring up Tori, but Seth finds it amusing. He even offers to call her, and I tell him that my sister might pass out. He calls anyway, and there is _so much_ squealing on the other end of the line. I can't help how making my sister's day spreads warmth right through me, and I feel Bella entwine her fingers with mine under the table.

Seth doesn't ask probing questions about my life and family. I think he must already known, though I don't think that Bella was the one to tell him. He does ask about my likes and dislikes, and we fall into a huge discussion about baseball. He even gets a little giddy when I mention that Jasper Whitlock is my best friend. The blond has a very promising career ahead of him, and even Seth Swan knows it.

All in all, I think that it goes well. I don't make a fool of myself, and Seth seems to like me.

Bella assures me of that much when she texts me later that night. I know she waits until after I've left the library, mainly because she likes to give me the opportunity to call her if I want to, which is something I can't do in the library.

But now I can, and I call her.

"Hey, Hot Stuff."

I chuckle. She's been trying out all sorts of nicknames for me, trying to find one that fits, but they're all rather terrible. I've only ever been called Edward. "How is the most beautiful girl in America?"

Her blush is practically audible. "Just dropped Seth off at the airstrip," she tells me. "I'm headed to you now."

"Uh, I'm sorry, but my other girlfriend is already on her way," I joke.

Bella's laugh is warm and inviting, and I think that we've taken a step forward. But then she hits me with those curious and odd looks when she arrives, and I can't help wondering what's going on with her. Things always seem fine until, well, hands go _places_.

So I pull back. I have to control myself.

She was very clear, wasn't she?

I don't know. My memory's getting a little hazy these days. The girl's too intoxicating.

* * *

I'm busy with my concept map on muscle cell structures when Bella surprises me with a visit. She looks thoughtful about something, as she closes my bedroom door behind her, but it's the fact that she doesn't give me a kiss hello that gets my attention.

"Okay," I say, turning in my chair to look at her. She's pacing the length of my bedroom. "Bella, what's wrong?"

She stops suddenly and looks at me. "You told me that you love me."

My brow furrows. "I did. And I do."

"So why haven't you tried to sleep with me yet?"

To say that I'm caught off guard by her question would be a gross understatement. "Wait, what?" I sputter. What is happening right now?

"Because I don't believe that you were waiting until you thought you loved me," she continues. "Despite how wonderful you are; you are a guy, and guys just don't do that."

I stand up and move towards her, realising that she's probably spent quite some time thinking about this. Which is equal parts confusing and terrifying. Did I miss something? Where is this even coming from? "Bella?"

"Why haven't you tried? I mean, don't you at least want to?"

What the hell? I look right into her eyes, my one hand blindly reaching for one of hers. "Okay, umm, before I answer that, can we both just acknowledge that you _told_ me that you're not going to sleep with me, right?"

She nods.

 _Jesus_. Clearly, she believes that that stance shouldn't have stopped me from at least _trying_. Girls are so fucking complicated sometimes.

"Also, I suppose I've just been more concerned with getting into your head and heart, more than into your pants," I tell her. It's something of the truth. "I didn't think it bothered you so much."

"It doesn't," she says. "Not really."

"But you were curious," I say, reading her facial expression. "It's not that I haven't thought about it. You're right about the fact that I am a guy, and I have a truly beautiful girlfriend. I'd be an idiot if I didn't think about it."

"Are you really not trying because I told you that I won't sleep with you?"

I reach for her waist and pull her close to me. "Bella, is this your trying to tell me that you want me to start trying because, by all means, I will," I tell her. "Believe me, I'm always game if you are."

She slips her arms around my neck, reaches up and kisses me gently. "I suppose that we could talk about it."

"What exactly do we have to talk about?"

Her arms tighten around my neck. "Several things, I think. One of which is the reason I was so adamant about not sleeping with you in the first place."

I raise my eyebrows. " _Was_?"

She laughs lightly, kisses me once more, and then escapes my embrace to sit down on my bed. She shifts around until she's comfortable, and then pats the bed beside her, inviting me to sit with her.

I glance at my computer for a moment, and then step over to it. I make sure that I've saved my document, and then I move to sit down next to her. I feel nervous all of a sudden. Once I'm settled, Bella takes hold of one of my hands and starts playing with my fingers. My music fingers.

"Your hands are shaking," she says, smiling at me. "Why are _you_ nervous?"

"Maybe I should go first," I suggest.

"Why?"

"Because I don't think I can concentrate right now," I say.

She looks thoughtful for a moment, before she nods. "I'm listening."

I take a deep breath. "I already told you that I haven't been with anyone since high school. Makenna's the only one I've ever been with, Bella, and I loved her very much. I mean, I'm very aware of the fact that I was young - we both were - but I remember thinking that I could be happy with this girl." I shake my head. "Makenna had other plans though.

"Well, anyway, we went away for spring break our senior year with a few of our friends, and that's when it happened." I cringe because I sound so blasé about the entire thing. It was a special night for us, but I'm sure that Bella wants to be spared the details.

I've already told her most of this, but I think it's important that I tell her my story, before she tells me hers. "We weren't together for very long after that. When my dad died, my life changed. She couldn't understand, and I wasn't willing to help her. We broke up, and I haven't been with anyone since. I've never really wanted to, until you."

She blushes. Of course she blushes. I can't have expected anything else.

"So that's it," I say. "There were a few things that I did with Tanya, but that's it." It's weird, I know. Boys my age have much longer lists. I even suspect that Bella has a longer list than I do, but I'm trying not to think about it too much.

Maybe I'm just too much of a romantic, or maybe I'm just not that interested in sex. Okay, that's a lie. Bella and I both know the truth of that. Suddenly, I'm aware of the meaning behind Bella's curious looks. They usually occur after a heated make-out session; sessions that usually end because of me and my sense of what? Why was I drawing it all to an end so quickly?

Maybe I'm terrified that, if I pushed too much, too fast or too hard; she would leave me. I don't think I could survive yet another person leaving me.

Bella clears her throat, drawing my attention. "Will you still love me after I tell you mine?" she asks, her voice taking on a quality that I've never heard before. She sounds small, even vulnerable, and I can't equate it with the Bella Swan that I know and love.

As a result, I bypass attempting a joke. "Yes," I say, making sure that she knows that I mean it. Because I do. I'm sure there's nothing she can say that'll change that.

She gives me a skeptical look, but I just hold her stare. Eventually, she lets out a long sigh, and then starts to speak. "After Jake," she begins; "after all of that, I kind of, umm, _self-destructed_." Her tone of voice lifts slightly, as if she's not too sure that's the right word, but she still rolls with it. "I loved him and, I think, like you, I thought we could make it, you know? So, when we didn't, I just; I never wanted to feel that way again.

"Washington was different. I was new, and the kids at school took to me the way that they would to something shiny and new. It's weird; people either already hate you or they already love you. I think I made friends quickly. Seth was better at it anyway. As a Senior, I think he just had it better than I did. Not that I really cared. I spent a lot of time not caring, and I channelled that into bad decisions.

"I dated a lot of boys, just to get under my father's skin. I went through them by the week, doing _things_ and trying to numb what my life now was. When I met Alistair, things kind of changed. He was, how do you say, dangerous. His grandfather was a Supreme Court judge, and there were a lot of things going on politically. I knew my dad wouldn't like him. I didn't like him half the time, but we knew we were both using each other. He got to date the First Daughter, and I got to piss off my family. I was never going to sleep with him, and he knew it. He tried a few times, but I said no. Alistair didn't understand why I wasn't giving in, but his best friend, Liam, at least tried to.

"Because, really, I didn't even understand it. Maybe I just thought that it would have been Jake who finally took my virginity, and a subconscious part of me wanted to feel something for the boy I slept with. I don't know. Anyway, Liam was sweet and caring, and he understood. I never saw any of it coming, you know? I didn't know that there were people who did that. I was so young, and so naive, Edward, and I'm so ashamed by it all."

I don't really understand what she's trying to tell me, but I don't ask her to explain. I'm sure I'll understand by the time she's finished.

"He wooed himself into my heart, and eventually into my bed. I mean, I should have known it was all too good to be true. It was near impossible for someone as sweet as Liam to be best friends with a dickhead like Alistair, and I _should have known_."

Suddenly, I think I realise what happened.

"He'd taken me to his father's cabin and, by the time we made it back to school, everyone knew. He'd scored with the Swan Queen. Apparently, Alistair orchestrated the entire thing - the bastard!" She drops her gaze. "Th - there was a picture, that ended up being circulated through the school until my dad found out. I've never seen him stamp down so hard on anything. I swear, he had the school shaking in their boots, and the picture, I'm convinced, was scrubbed from this Earth. It was at that point that our relationship really took a turn for the worse. I don't think we can salvage it."

There is a moment, where she just stares at her hands, and I want nothing more than to put my arms around her and never let go, but I know she won't want that. Not yet, anyway.

"I think my dad thinks I did it on purpose," she says. "That I deliberately tried to derail his term with such a scandal. We've never actually spoken about it. He just called in a Fixer, and that was it. Picture gone, crisis averted. Alistair and Liam, I don't even know where they are right now. I don't really care, to be honest, and I worry that it makes me a bad person."

"It doesn't," I immediately say, and she seems surprised by the sound of my voice. "They hurt you. You're allowed not to care."

She looks at me through her lashes. "I don't sleep with just anyone, Edward," she says. "There was one boy after Liam. I liked him, but I was too careful, I think. Too scared. He wasn't nearly as patient as you are." She risks a smile, and I manage to return it. "I needed to come here. I needed to get away from all of that, and I needed to meet you. I needed _you_."

She's barely got the end of her last sentence out, when I launch myself at her. I kiss her for all she's worth, my hands in her hair, on her skin, _burning_. How could she ever have been worried that I wouldn't love her after _this_? Silly, silly girl.

After a while, Bella pushes on my chest so she can catch her breath. Her eyes meet mine, and they're alive with something pure; something real. "Valentine's Day," she says breathlessly.

My brows knit together. "Huh?"

"Valentine's Day," she repeats, adding a sultry quality to her voice, and I just know. There's too much suggestion in that voice of hers to go unnoticed.

"Oh."

Her eyes are dancing with mischief. "We can go away somewhere. Its can be..." she trails off, blushing.

"Special?" I offer.

She nods. "Special."

This girl is going to be the end of me, and she's going to enjoy it.

Hah. I probably will as well.


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter Ten**

A lot of planning goes into our Valentine's Getaway. I _want_ to make the plans, but I'm not really allowed to. Harry gives me a list of suitable destinations, and I have to choose. It's even more horrible because, under normal circumstances, I would never be able to afford any of these places. Bella doesn't say much, though she is a distraction enough. I try to convince myself to accept what is, and I just about manage it.

I go home the weekend before Bella and I jet off on our romantic weekend, while Bella heads off to some other State. She mentioned something about Maine, but I can't be sure. Her schedule changes often, which is mainly because the First family is spread out across the country on the campaign trail.

Basically, if people learn about our weekend away, they'll assume we're having sex, so we may as well have it. At least, that's what Bella says. I think she's wrapping this whole thing up in something crude because she's terrified of this step we're going to take. I'm a little afraid too but I'm trying not to overthink it. I think that's the only way we'll _enjoy_ it.

My mom has all types of pointers for me, which is beyond embarrassing. Imagine Esme Masen trying to give you tips on how to woo your girlfriend - no, just no. Even Carlisle chips in, which has me cowering like a teenage boy who's just been caught masturbating. And I _know_ what that feels like. I mean, what are they trying to do to me? Seriously? I'm well aware of my relative inexperience in this department, but I really don't need my family pointing it out to me.

Tori tells me that Carlisle has been coming around more often these days, and our mom has definitely been smiling that bit more because of it. If my mom is happy, then the rest of the household will just have to follow suit. It's kind of how it's always worked with us, and I shudder to think about what it's going to be like when she's gone. Because it's coming. If I didn't _feel_ it so much; it'd be easy enough to see.

So I'm worried for us. All of us. Particularly Carlisle. I know I'm the one who practically _pushed_ him into all of this, and I can't help but think about what's going to happen to him _after_. Because it's going to be here in no time at all.

What's going to happen to all of us then?

I hope Carlisle won't resent me for the pain he'll surely feel. But, even as I stand there and see the way that he looks at her, I know he'll find it all worth it. Esme Masen is always going to be worth it. She's getting worse though. She hides it, but I see. It's in her movements, and in the way she speaks. There's pain in her eyes.

Something that seems to bother her the most is that her hair won't grow back, and I know she hates it. She doesn't want to be buried without her hair. She won't be buried with a wig either.

Maybe she won't be buried at all.

I know we should probably talk about it, but I don't want to be the one to bring it up. I want to mention it to Peter - maybe he can handle the funeral arrangements. Or Charlotte. Carlisle.

Anyone else. Just, _not me_.

I've managed to catch Riley in a good week. The first week of recovery after a round of the new cocktail of chemo they're trying is always the worst, but I'm with him in his last. Next week, he'll go in again, and I'm secretly glad that I won't be here to witness it. It's too much. Seeing it, and not being able to do anything to help... I can't even bear to _think_ about it.

For this one weekend, he seems like the happy-go-lucky kid he's supposed to be. And, if it weren't for his pale skin, bald head and chemo ports; you'd think he was perfectly healthy. He ropes me into watching _The Amazing Spider-Man_ with him _again_ , and I make a big show of dragging myself into the living room.

And then the little tyke ends up falling asleep ten minutes into the morning.

Peter and I spend a few hours going over the books on Saturday morning. Without my mom's treatments, we're actually doing fine. For a terrifying moment, I consider that she's doing this for that precise reason, but then I remember that she said that what she's doing is not like what my father did. I have no choice but to believe her. Esme Masen is not a liar.

I make sure to ask Tori about her life. I have to set time aside to spend with my little sister. As the baby of the family, I sometimes think she feels a little left out when it comes to the daily life decisions that we all seem to be making. It's intended, of course, because she shouldn't have to worry about any of this, but I don't want her to feel as if we don't see her. Because we do. _I_ do, even if I'm not in the same State.

She talks to me about James. And then goes on and on about Seth Swan. Apparently, she couldn't wait to tell her friends about the phone call - though some didn't believe her. She doesn't care though because she got to talk to him, and nobody can take that away from her.

The visit feels so short. It's as if I just arrived, and now I have to go back again. Carlisle is the one to drop me off at the airport. He offers to take me for a reason, and so I agree. My mom gives us both curious looks as we leave, but we say nothing.

He finds parking rather easily, which is completely unheard of. There must be something about Carlisle Cullen then; something that he radiates that just makes the world bow before him.

He's silent as I get myself checked in, and then we head through security. I have about half an hour before I need to board so Carlisle suggests we get some coffee. I don't really like to eat or drink anything before I fly but I agree anyway.

I get a standard cup, and Carlisle gets something fancy. Fucking _d_ _octors_.

I've always wondered what kind of doctor I'll end up being. It just seems like a long way to go. This year honestly feels as if it's gone on for decades. So much has happened.

"Edward?" Carlisle says, getting my attention.

I look at him, a little embarrassed. "You want to talk?"

"I wanted to ask you something, actually," he says, keeping his eyes on mine. "About your mother."

I swallow thickly.

"It's nothing bad," he assures me. "It's actually something rather good, if I'm being perfectly honest."

"What is it?"

"I'd like to take her somewhere," he says. "She's always expressed her desire to travel, and I'd like to take her somewhere, anywhere, if she'll let me."

I blink. "Are you asking my permission?"

He shakes his head. "Not _permission_ , but I would like to know your thoughts on the idea," he explains. "Peter may be the oldest, but it's you who's the true head. You're the one holding this family together."

I scoff at the sound of that.

"It's true," Carlisle immediately counters. "You probably think it's your mother or even Riley, but we all know it's you. You are the glue. Believe it."

I don't believe him. If I'm so important to my family, why did they take so long to tell me about the extent of my mom's disease? A part of me still hasn't forgiven them, but I'm trying not to focus on it. I suspect I'll need a lot of therapy later in my life, so I'll save it for then.

"Is that something you think she'd like?" Carlisle asks.

"We both already know the answer to that," I say. "So what is it that you really want to ask me, Carlisle?"

He takes a deep breath. "Esme is worried about you," he says. "As am I."

"I'm fine," I say automatically.

"Are you?"

I don't answer.

"I don't meant to put you on the spot, Edward," he says softly. "Believe me, the last thing I want is for you to feel attacked. I just don't think that you're fully preparing yourself for what's to come. This year has been full of changes for your family, and in your personal life. All these changes are difficult for anyone, let alone a junior in college."

I blink once, and then I sigh. "Is she worried that I'm more my father's son than any of us know?" I finally ask.

Carlisle doesn't respond immediately. "This life isn't easy," he says eventually. "Somehow, we're all going to have to get through the next few months. I just, I don't want you to think that all of this is on you, okay?"

I nod my head. "Okay."

"Okay?"

"I get it."

"You do?"

"I do."

He looks confused, and I can't help my smile.

"Look, I'm handling myself," I say. "It's not easy, and I'm sure that I'm going to fall apart at some point, but that point isn't any time soon."

"After?"

I nod. "She needs me now. They all do."

"Edward, this isn't healthy."

"What's the alternative, Carlisle?" I argue. "There's no time to break down now. There sure as hell isn't time to shut down either. I have school, and I have everyone and the situation in Seattle. I have Bella, and I have my friends, and they all need me for something. I have to be strong, Carlisle."

He looks pained. "Edward."

I shake my head.

"What do _you_ need?"

I don't know how to answer that question, because what I _need_ is nearly impossible. There's no way that I can go back in time to when everyone was healthy, alive and happy. So, what I need or _want_ doesn't matter. That's just the way it is.

"Edward?" he practically pleads.

I close my eyes for a moment, gathering my thoughts. "She can't see," I say, opening my eyes again. "She has to believe that we're going to be okay. I need her to be at peace when her time comes. She needs to be at peace with her decision, Carlisle."

"But _you're_ not." It's not a question.

"And you can't tell her," I immediately say. "She can't know."

"Why?"

"Because."

"Because what?"

I huff. "Because, Carlisle, in a few short months, we're all going to be fucking orphans!" I hiss. "They did that. Fucking Garrett Masen, and now Esme Masen. So, no, you can't fucking tell her, all right?"

He just stares at me.

I deflate quite dramatically, and look at my cup of coffee as if it holds all the secrets to the universe. "Don't you see? All of it; all this shit that I keep inside, _has_ to stay inside. It _can't_ come out, because I don't know what I'll do if it does." He's the first person I've almost showed what's inside, and he looks shocked. It's almost amusing.

 _Almost_.

It's just that, if he's freaked out by this little bit, how is anyone else expected to handle _all of it_?

"Can we stop talking about this?" I ask.

He nods.

"So, is my mom actually healthy enough to travel?"

He nods again. "We'll make the necessary arrangements and, as long as she's with a doctor, it should be fine."

"Will it be for long?"

"Probably not," he says, shifting in his seat. "She won't want to be away from the family for too long."

"I think it's a good idea," I say. "She needs some time to herself, I think."

He nods. Fuck, he's doing a lot of nodding. I can just imagine his doctor brain running through everything he could possibly do for me right now. I can practically feel the worry radiating off of him.

I lift my coffee up to my lips and take a large gulp. It's bitter and lukewarm, but it's just what I need right now. I glance over Carlisle's shoulder at the screen listing the Departures. I wish they would announce that my flight is boarding now. I'd do anything to get up and away from this conversation right now.

"Where are you thinking of taking her?" I ask after a while.

"Paris," he says. "Or Rome. She's always mentioned a desire to visit the Vatican City."

I nod, because it's true. I remember my dad once promising to take her, but look how well that turned out. Somehow, I can just see Carlisle following through on his intentions. It's actually a bit odd for me. For so long, Peter and I have been the ones to make decisions and keep everything _moving_. And now here's Carlisle, who runs to the grocery store whenever my mum is feeling up to some ice cream.

It's odd, but not _terrible_.

I sometimes think about what it would be like if my dad were still alive. I mean, I don't for a second consider that Carlisle could ever be like a father - I mean, no. It's just that it's kind of nice to have the _help_. I don't know how to tell him that I appreciate everything he's doing without it getting too weird.

Even though he thinks he's failed her, and us... he's still here. And, really, to me, that's the most important part. I don't think they make greeting cards for that kind of thing, do they? I reckon, if this whole doctor thing doesn't work out; I'd consider writing greeting cards for a living. I think I'd be relatively _not bad_ at it.

Carlisle and I sit in silence for a while, each of us sipping at our drinks. I can tell he wants to say something, but I'm not sure I can handle it right now. I think he senses that because he doesn't try to broach the topic of my mom again. We just wait until my flight is called, and then we're standing. He hugs me. There isn't even a hint of hesitation behind it - Carlisle is a _hugger_ , apparently.

He tells me to look after myself, and then I'm on my way.

I board quickly. It pays to be a frequent flyer, and then I'm shuffling down the aisle behind an old woman with a massive handbag. She even bumps a few poor people on the head with it, and I try desperately not to laugh. I fail dismally.

Thankfully, I reach my row before she does, politely smile to the other passengers and then stow my own carry-ons. I slip into my seat and fish in my pocket for my phone. I glance about and, seeing that I still have a few minutes until the plane fills up: I make a quick call to Bella. I spoke to her this morning but, well, I kind of miss her. A lot. As pathetic as that sounds.

She answers on the second ring. "Hey, Brisket."

"Oh my God, how much time have you been spending with Jazz?"

She giggles. "Well, I've just landed, so I'm going to spend some time with Rose and Alice," she tells me. "We've really got to sort out this Jasper and Alice situation, Edward. Rose is going to end up killing someone, I'm telling you, and I won't be held responsible for who that might end up being."

I can't help my smile. "Do you have something in mind?"

"Um, well, Angela and I might have discussed it," she informs me. "I know Angie looks all innocent, but she's really quite diabolical."

"Oh boy," I laugh. "Have you been corrupting her?" I ask, and then backtrack, wanting to wind her up. "Oh wait, it's you who's the innocent one, right?"

"Me?" she asks. "Oh, I'm not innocent, Edward."

"Sure you aren't," I tease.

She huffs. "You think I'm innocent?"

I drop the volume of my voice. "I'm pretty sure that 'Innocent' is your middle name."

"Actually, it's Marie," she says, trying to sound unimpressed. "And, just for that, I'm going to show you just how _innocent_ I am when I see you, Mr Cool."

I'm a little unnerved, but I push through it. There's something in her voice that makes my entire body tense. "God, that's awful," I say. "Makes me sound like a creeper."

"Like that old man who stands on the corner of the street and tells all the little kids to call him 'Mr Cool.'"

I laugh because I absolutely love her. "I heard a rumour that you're picking me up at the airport," I say. "Is that true?"

"I don't know; is it?"

"Are you going to make me take a cab?"

"Isn't Jasper picking you up?"

"I actually don't know," I admit. "I'll figure it out when I land. Am I seeing you tonight?"

"Of course," she says easily. "I have to show you just how _innocent_ I am, remember?"

Again, my body tenses. What is happening right now? I mean, all she's doing is saying words to me. "Okay, so I'll be home at, nine, the latest," I say. "Maybe a little after if there's traffic."

"I'll come by at ten then," she said. "Give you some time to settle in."

"Maybe I'll just text you when I get to Fraternity Quad," I tell her. "I don't want any time to settle in; I just want to see you."

She's silent for a moment. "I miss you too, Edward."

"I love you."

Her reply is instant. "I love you too."

I'm probably smiling like an idiot, but I don't care. There's this girl who I love, and she loves me back. How can I possibly _not_ smile? "I just had a talk with Carlisle," I tell her. "He wants to take my mom to Europe."

I hear her take an excited breath but, before she gives me her opinion, she asks the all-important question first. "Wait, how do you feel about that?"

"I think it's a great idea," I tell her.

"I do too," she says, sounding relieved. "Do you know where?"

Before I can reply, a shadow falls over me, and I'm forced to look up. There's an air hostess trying to tell me that I have to end my call, and I sigh heavily. I nod at the woman, before I speak into my phone. "Hey, Bella, I've got to go," I say; "we're about to take off."

"Okay," she says quickly. "Have a safe flight, and I'll see you later."

I open my mouth to say something else, but stop short. "Okay, the air hostess just gave me a dirty look," I whisper to Bella.

She giggles wonderfully, and my heart flutters. Before this call, I was feeling rather down, but just talking to her is enough of a pick-me-up. I might be leaving home, but I'm going to Bella. I'm going to see her in a few hours, and that makes leaving Seattle hurt a little less.

"Okay, be a good boy now and put your phone away, Edward Masen."

"Bye, you," I say.

"Bye you, too."

I hang up first, switch off my phone and put it away. I've got a novel - the new John Grisham - for the flight, but I can't bring myself to take it out. I know I didn't imagine what I heard in Bella's voice. There was definitely something to be heard, and it's making me tense.

I mean, we decided on Valentine's weekend, didn't we?

I close my eyes and lean by head back. I'm in an aisle seat, which is my preferred seat so long as I keep my elbow tucked in. Those trolleys have been known to leave a bruise or two as they travel up and down the aisles. Just ask my elbows.

There's a mother and daughter sitting to my left but, beyond the first acknowledgement when I sat down, I haven't paid them any mind. Well, not until take off at least. I open my eyes when the air hostesses run through the safety procedures. It doesn't take me long to notice that the one hostess keeps looking at me. I notice it about the same time that the girl sitting next to me does.

"It's because you're hot," she says when I frown.

I'm surprised, of course, and a little uncomfortable. She looks to be about thirteen, maybe fourteen, but I can't be sure. I look across at her mother, who's asleep against the window.

" _And_ it's because you're Edward Masen."

My eyes widen.

"We all know who you are," she continues, clearly unfazed. "It's kind of hard not to, when your face has been everywhere for the past month." She blinks, and then grins. "But it's really because you're hot. Like, _really_ hot."

I have no idea what to say to her, so I don't say anything. I mean, is this even something you can say 'thank you' to? So I just smile, and then I reach for my book, pop in my earphones and try not to pay attention to the now _numerous_ eyes on me. Apparently word's spread that I'm on this plane. I even get an extra packet of peanuts. Can you imagine?

Don't they know? Can't they tell? There's only one girl for me, and her name is Isabella Swan. There is nobody else, and I wouldn't have it any other way. I like to think that it should be written all over my face, but maybe other people aren't looking close enough.

When we finally land, it feels like the tension in my body has completely disappeared. I've managed to push my conversation with Carlisle to the back of my mind, which isn't something I found difficult to do. In my years, I've learned to be a master at compartmentalisation and I reckon that's the part that Carlisle is so worried about.

What's going to happen to me when I finally crack?

Because I will.

Carlisle knows it as well as I do.

We disembark the plane in silence, but that's mainly because I've still got my earphones in. They're a sure way to create a barrier between me and the rest of the world and I never thought I would truly need it until now. It wasn't this way when I was flying to Seattle, and I'm left to wonder about why things have suddenly changed now I make a mental not to ask Bella about it. I clutch my bags tight to me as we shuffle out and into the Chicago air. I've definitely missed it.

And then there Bella is, all perfect brown eyes and pouty lips, waiting for me as I emerge from the tunnel. I want to kiss her, but I don't. Harry might kill us, seriously. The things she probably had to do to get him to allow her to pick me up. Airports are the breeding ground for _bad things_ , apparently.

Bella does hug me though, snaking her arms around my waist and resting her head against my chest. I'm a little restricted by my backpack, tog bag and laptop bag, but I manage to wrap one arm around her. God, I've missed her and, from the way she's practically vibrating, I can tell she's missed me too.

"How was, uh, Maine?" I ask, pulling back slightly.

"Meh," she says noncommittally, and I know she doesn't want to talk about it. That's fine. I don't really want to talk about Seattle either. "Come on, let's go," she says, turning her body, but not fully releasing my waist. It makes the walk a little awkward - our hips keep bumping and my bag keeps slipping - but I don't want to let her go either. It's the first time we've been apart since we decided to _try_ , and I really didn't like it. I want to do it as rarely as possible.

I let Bella lead the way out of the terminal. I didn't bother to check a bag in, so we're able to bypass Baggage Claim, which is a relief to Harry, I can tell.

The drive to Fraternity Quad is quick. Harry offers to help me with my bags into the house, but I decline. Instead, he walks ahead of us, doing a quick sweep to make sure everything is safe for Bella to enter. He's been a little _extra_ lately, and it's freaking me out a little. Bella just takes it in stride, so I'm trying to do the same. What are the chances anyone actually _tries_ something? They'd have to be insane.

Bella and I say quick greetings to the boys downstairs, and then we go straight to my bedroom. I close the door with my foot and automatically lock it - I swear it's habit. She's kissing me before I've even managed to set my bags down.

"Can you tell that I missed you?" she asks against my lips, and I'm so lost. I would leave the city just to come back to this. Really, I would. She's very much in control, and I let her move me around the room, my hands sliding up and down her sides, holding her to me.

Bella turns me, and then pushes me down onto my bed. "How's your mom?" she asks, before she climbs onto me, and straddles my hips.

"Happy," I say, because it's true. It was weird for me to witness, but I couldn't have asked for anything else. I want my mom's last few months to be the best yet and, even if I'm not directly responsible for it; I'm fine with that. I'm _more_ than fine with that, to be honest. It takes a bit of the pressure off of me.

I look up at Bella, who's watching me curiously.

"I love you," I say.

Instead of responding, she attacks me with her mouth. And her hands. Before I know it, my shirt is unbuttoned, and her fingers are dancing over my muscles; her lips still keeping mine occupied. She runs the heel of her palms over my nipples, and I moan into her mouth, making her smile.

"What are you trying to do to me?" I ask, sounding breathless.

She lifts her head slightly. "Edward?"

"Hmm?"

"Do you want me to stop?"

"Fuck no."

"So, _ssh_."

I snap my mouth shut.

She laughs, absently shifting her curtain of mahogany hair out of the way, and then resumes her torture. Truthfully, I don't know what I've done to deserve all of this love, but I'm not complaining. Really, I'm not, because her lips follow where her fingers go, and I'm practically writhing before she's even unbuckled my belt. All I can do is watch her with wide eyes, too stunned to ask her why this is happening.

I'm terrified she's going to stop.

She doesn't.

She's all deliberate hands, dancing fingers and hot mouth. She's all tongue, teeth and moans, and I am literally at her mercy. Good God, I take it all back. There isn't an _innocent_ bone in her body. She's proven me wrong. Oh, Isabella Marie.

Because, once she's had her way with me, she asks the question she's wanted to ask, crawling back up my body. "Who's the innocent one now?"

* * *

"Oh, stop it."

I turn my head to glare at her.

Bella's got an amused little smirk on her face, and I want to kiss it right off of her. "You know as well as I do that we couldn't drive ourselves," he reminds me. Unnecessarily.

"I feel emasculated," I say with a huff.

Her eyes flicker to the front of the car, before she scoots closer to me. "I can assure you that it's a feeling that won't last long, Mr Masen."

I just grin at her as I lift my arm for her to lean against me. We're still within Chicago's city limits, but the buildings are flying by and, soon, they'll give way to open spaces. I think that's the moment it will really hit me that this is really happening. This girl and I are going to spend the weekend holed away somewhere. Alone. Together.

I'm both nervous and excited. I have an entire plan for our first time, which is mainly because my mom may or may not have made sure that I gave it a lot of thought. It's supposed to be special, but I get this sneaky suspicion that Bella might just rip my clothes off as soon as the door closes at out destination.

"Edward?"

I look down at her, absently placing a kiss on her forehead. "Hmm?"

"Can I ask you something?"

"Anything."

She takes a deep breath. "Are you nervous?"

I close my eyes for a moment. "A little, yeah," I admit. "Are you?"

"A lot."

"What's worrying you?"

She shifts to get more comfortable, and her head drops a little on my chest. "I know it's irrational," she begins, and I suddenly know what she's trying to tell me.

"You're worried about _after_ ," I state. I could pass off her worries with some kind of joke, but I don't. This is a part of her past that still haunts her. "Bella?"

"Hmm?"

"I don't know if the words I say will ease your worries, so I want you to look at my actions, okay?" I let out a puff of breath. "We've already been through quite a bit, you and me, and I hope you know by now that I'm not in this relationship for the sex. I sure as hell am not in it for the publicity. I'm in it because I want nothing more than to be with you. I just - I just want to be with you. All day, every day. I love you and, if we don't even do _this_ this weekend, I promise I will still love you."

"And if we do?"

"I will definitely still love you."

She lifts her head to look at me, her eyes meeting and holding mine. "I love you too," she says softly, before she kisses me. It's a quick kiss, but it promises so much more. _So much more_.

"Can I ask _you_ something now?" I ask when I pull away.

She nods, as she resettles against me.

"Has my mom mentioned anything to you about, uh - "

"About what, Edward?"

"Did she talk to you about this trip they're taking?"

She frowns. "Why do you think that she spoke to _me_ about it?"

I raise my eyebrows in question.

"Okay, I mean, I know that I talk to your mom more often than is _typical_ when I'm dating her son, but our conversations are confidential, you know?"

"Bella?"

She smiles at me. "What exactly do you want to know, Edward?"

"She's happy, right?" I ask. "I mean, this is a big deal, and she's - " I stop. "I don't know what I'm asking."

She regards me for a moment. "It bothers you that you're not the one to take her, doesn't it?"

I look away.

"It's okay, Edward," she assures me. "She's _your_ mom and, even though I know you're okay with the fact that she's on that plane right now; it's okay to feel whatever you're feeling."

I blink. "My dad promised her, you know? He promised to take her everywhere she wanted to go; even before she got sick. And when she did, he made even more promises. And then he died, Bella, and his promises died with him. I wanted - I - I was supposed to take her. I told myself that I would live this life, do this work and then, when I had the means, I would take her to every single place she was promised. But now I don't have time."

Bella kisses my jaw after a long silence. "She wanted to wait, you know?"

"Huh?"

"This trip, she wanted to take it rather over Spring Break, so that the whole family could go," she explains. "But..." she trails off.

"She might not have been able to travel then," I finish for her. Because she's getting worse; because she's _dying_.

We sit in silence for a long while, each of us in our own thoughts.

Bella is the one to break it. "So, speaking of Spring Break; what do you think about possibly spending it at Camp David?" she asks, and all I can really do is stare at her. "And, I suppose, possibly meeting my family while we're there?"

I swallow audibly.

"You don't have to decide now," she says quickly, possibly sensing my panic. "I mean, it's just an idea, Edward. And it doesn't have to be for the whole Break. I mean, I assume you're going home, and I _want_ you to go home. I just, you know, that last weekend, maybe you could come back a day early, and we could..." she trails off when she notices my wide smile. "What?"

"Why so incoherent, Miss Swan?"

She blushes as if on command.

"Bella," I say, grinning stupidly at her. "Are you sure?"

"I am."

"You want me to meet them? All of them? For real?"

She nods. "I _want_ it, yes, but also, my mom has been nagging me about it," she says, absently rolling her eyes. "She's very excited about the idea of you; about _us_. She's been trying to get me to take you home ever since I told her about you."

"And when was that?"

"The day I met you."

I frown. "The day you stumbled into my life?"

She blushes again. "I called her before and after I came to the party," she tells me. "She knew from the very beginning, Edward."

"You always wanted me, didn't you?"

"Always."

I just smile at her. God, this weekend is going to be amazing.

We get to our destination just after nine o'clock. Harry checks us in at reception under an alias, and then we're driving through the trees towards our secluded bungalow. I was told that it looks out onto a lake, which is part of the reason I picked it. The other reason is that Harry and Billy's bungalow is at least three hundred yards from ours.

Bella joked that she could be as loud as she wanted, and the boys wouldn't know any better.

Harry parks the car, and he and Billy do a sweep. They sent a team earlier to check that everything was safe, and now we get to just walk in. Which is what we do. Bella and I dump our bags in the front foyer, and then just stare at each other.

I'd like to say that Bella and I are mature about the fact that we are suddenly left alone. I'd like to say that we are calm and collected as we settle in and explore the bungalow like the sane, educated people we are trying to be. I'd love to be able to say that my plan to make everything perfect, with mood music and rose petals, goes off without a hitch. And I'd also like to say that we wait a suitable amount of time before we, essentially, christen every room in that bungalow.

But then I'd be fucking lying.


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter Eleven**

"So...?"

I look up from my textbook. "So."

Jasper grunts. "Are you seriously not going to tell me anything?"

I nod my head. I'm dead serious.

He huffs in annoyance. "You do know that Bella is probably telling the girls all about it right now, right?"

I nod again. "I'm sure she is."

"Then why aren't you telling me?"

"Because a gentleman never kisses and tells."

He snorts. "You're not a gentleman."

I grin at him. "Oh yes, I'm _definitely_ not."

This time, he growls. Like, he properly growls. "I can't believe I came all the way to the library for this shit. Why didn't you just tell me you were going to be so tight-lipped?"

"I did tell you," I tell him. "Or have you forgotten?"

"Did you tell me that before or after you mentioned my possibly trying again with Alice? Because I blocked out everything that you said after that."

I glare at him.

"Have you been speaking to Alice?" he asks.

"Have you?"

He folds his arms across his chest and leans back. "I don't want to talk about Alice."

"Well, I don't want to talk about Bella either," I say and, as soon as her name leaves my mouth; I smile like a total idiot.

Jasper shakes his head. "God, you're pathetic."

"I am," I admit because I don't fucking even care.

He spends another moment glaring at me, before he starts to pack up his things. "I have practice," he says, but I'm half sure it's a lie. Once he's ready to leave, he holds his hand out.

Without a word, I hand him the keys to the OB. I'm convinced that he should rather just keep them. I mean, I've done such little driving ever since Bella and I made it 'official.' Her security has increased since then as well, which I think is the reason why I'm never allowed to drive myself to meet her.

"Jazz?"

"Hmm?"

"This life we live is unpredictable, and it can be short," I tell him sadly. "I have enough experience to know the truth of that. If I were you, and I had even the slightest chance of spending my life with my own Bella; I wouldn't waste a fucking second." I meet his gaze. "I won't claim to be an expert but, if you feel even half of what I feel for Bella for Alice; I just can't fathom how you're still standing here."

He narrows his eyes.

"I get it," I add. "Falling for someone is scary. I'm fucking terrified every second of the day." I shake my head. "But look at you. Look at you right now; look at all the decisions you've made lately..." I'm referring to Jessica and he knows it. " _You're_ the alternative."

He looks shocked for a moment, before his head jerks in a nod.

A moment later, he's gone.

I get back to work. Well, I try. It's difficult to pay attention to organic formulae when I know what it feels like to have Bella's bare hands all over my naked body. Seriously. How do people in relationships manage to get _any_ work done? I should probably try to focus more because I can feel my panic rising. My upcoming exams are going to be do or die.

Just before seven o'clock, I start to pack up my things. The library isn't exactly _quiet_ , but not many people are paying attention to me, which is probably the main reason why I prefer to spend the time I'm not in class or in my room in the library.

It's no secret that Bella and I spent Valentine's weekend away. The press managed to get pictures of our return to Chicago and, you know, the world hasn't imploded because of it. My brother called me the morning the pictures were published and all he said was 'Congratulations,' and then hung up. I laughed for a solid minute. I smile every time I think about it.

And then I think of Bella and smile even more. I'm ruined, I tell you. I'm ruined forever, and I can't even bring myself to care. I'm so desperately in love with her that I can't even think of a life beyond her. This is for forever - I just know it.

At exactly seven o'clock, I walk out of the library, down the front steps and straight into the waiting SUV. The door closes behind me, and I drop my head straight onto Bella's lap, immediately relegating my bag to the floor. I've missed her, even though I saw her just last night.

"Hello, you," I say, and her fingers immediately find my hair.

She kisses my forehead. "You're punctual."

"I missed you."

Her features soften, and I love her; I love her so much. "I missed you too," she says. "Though, tell me, have you been accosted about our weekend away as much as I have?"

"Jazz keeps asking about it," I tell her. "And random guys keep high-fiving me - it's fucking weird."

"Is it?"

"Not really. People are people. They can think what they want to think."

"Because we _know_?"

"We do, don't we?"

She quiet for a while, as the car rolls on. Truthfully, I have no idea where we're going and I find that I don't care. We could go anywhere, as long as I'm with her. This is my completely falling into this unknown with her.

She continues to play with my hair and she nibbles at her bottom lip, as if she's gearing herself up for something. "I have to tell you something," she says.

My eyes are already on her face. "Okay," I say, trying to keep my sudden nervousness out of my voice.

"I talked to my dad."

I take a deep breath and hold it.

"It wasn't exactly a _pleasant_ conversation," she explains. Her eyes flick forward, as if she's worried that what she says will get back to her father through her Secret Service. I see her resolve shift. It's either she doesn't care or she's decided to give her boys the benefit of the doubt. "He thinks that this is all some stunt to get his attention," she eventually says.

"What is?" I ask on an exhale.

" _You_."

"Oh."

She sighs. "He's not _here_. He doesn't _see_." She shakes her head. "I love you, Edward. That means something to me, and I won't have him relegating you to someone I would _use_ to make his life more difficult." She takes a breath. "I admit that I've done it before, but I'm older now. I know better, and I've never truly felt even half as much for those boys as I feel about you."

I blink. "Not even Jake?"

She hesitates, and I wait. "I loved him," she eventually responds; "but it didn't feel like _this_." She thinks for a moment. "I feel you in my veins," she tries to explain. "You're _in_ me. Does that make sense?"

Nothing has ever made more sense to me. I sit up to look at her properly. "Does that make sense?" I echo. "Nothing and everything about this makes sense to me, Bella, but I love you. I love you so much." I lean in to kiss her cheek. "I'm sorry that your conversation with your dad didn't go well. What can I do?"

"You're doing it."

I take hold of her hands and bring them up to my lips. Then I grin at her. "So, let me get this straight: your dad, who also happens to be the President of the United States, doesn't like me?"

She laughs. "Probably hates you."

"Lovely."

"But _I_ love you."

I raise my eyebrows. "Say it again."

She shakes her head in amusement. "So needy."

And maybe I am. But this is it. She told me I could need her; that I could hold onto her.

I intend to.

* * *

Bella finds it hilarious that I refuse to sleep with her in my bedroom. We do other things, of course, but there is no sex happening in this fraternity. She's hell bent on trying to convince me though. The thing is that I don't really know _why_ I won't, but I just _can't_.

I think I'm doing it for her, but it's probably for myself. It's weird, and I fully accept it. I'm a weird guy, but she loves me, so who's the delusional one here? She laughs every time I tell her that, before she proceeds to make me _beg_.

And I do beg. My girlfriend can be such a tease sometimes.

The rest of February is rather uneventful as it rolls by, and it's absolutely wonderful.

I have a standing date with my mom at eight o'clock every night, regardless of how much work I have. Sometimes our conversations are just a few minutes long, or sometimes we talk for hours. Bella's there sometimes, and the three of us talk. Or, rather, Bella and I talk, and my mom listens. She doesn't do as much talking these days. I think she's just content to _hear_ us. I mostly tell her about my days, complain about the amount of work I have, gush about my beautiful girlfriend and bitch about my best friends.

Jasper and Emmett join in when they can, but I suspect that they talk to her in their own time. We all know what's coming. There's no denying it now; no avoiding it. My mom is dying and there's nothing I can do to stop it.

I haven't had enough time.

She's supposed to wait. So is Riley. I still have too many years of study to go through, and they are supposed to wait.

"Oh my God!"

I startle, and look up from my work. Bella's sitting up on my bed, staring at her phone in disbelief. "What's wrong?" I ask, the hairs on the back of my arms standing on end almost immediately.

She blinks rapidly. "Uh." She gets up and moves towards me. "Can you get onto the news? Something happened at the rally."

"What?"

"Something."

I quickly open Google, and wait for more instructions. Google will know. "Bella," I prompt.

"I don't know," she says in mild annoyance, her nervousness making me antsy. "Swan rally. Pittsburgh. It should come up."

And boy does it. She makes me scroll to the fifth hit, and I open the video in a new tab. For a moment, I'm not entirely sure what I'm watching, but then it starts. President Swan is in the middle of a speech of some sort, but he's interrupted by what sounds like an explosion. I can't help my gasp, and Bella's hand flies to her mouth. In the video, the lights go out, and there's lots of screaming.

"Shit," Bella says, as she hurries back to her bed and retrieves her phone. A second later, she's dialling someone. Her mom, I assume. Someone in her family.

I look for another video, and I watch the entire thing play out again. What the hell?

"Sam?" Bella suddenly barks into her phone. "Oh my God, are you guys all right? What the hell happened? Where's Mom?"

I turn in my chair to face her, just waiting. I need her to give me some sort of clue as to what I should do. Does she need me to get Harry? Does she want me to hold her? Should I take the phone from her and find out how her family is for her?

I don't know what to do, so I do nothing. I just sit and watch as the tension in Bella's body dissipates the moment that she speaks to her mom. She asks questions, and the answers seem to placate her.

When she finally hangs up, she quickly types something, before she turns to look at me. Her eyes are shining with unshed tears, and her facial features are stricken with concern. Even though we both know that her family's okay; she still looks devastated.

I immediately stand up and move towards her, but she puts her hands up to stop my approach.

"I'm okay," she says. "Just, if you hug me, I won't be."

"Bella," I whisper.

"I'm okay," she says again. "They're okay. It was just a dummy explosion; meant to cause chaos. Nobody actually got hurt." She shakes her head. "Just, somebody really doesn't want my dad to win this election."

"Bella," I say again.

"I'm okay."

I don't believe her. So, going against her wishes, I step forward and wrap my arms around her. She tenses for a moment, before she relaxes into me, her arms snaking around my waist and squeezing me tight. It hurts a little, but I don't say anything.

"They're okay," she whispers against my chest.

"They're okay," I echo, soothingly rubbing her back.

"I'm sorry," she says.

I shake my head. She can be so silly sometimes. I kiss the top of her head before I pull back enough to look at her face. "What do you need?" I ask her, touching her cheek with the back of my fingers. Her skin is dry of tears, but she still looks a little shattered. "What can I do? Tell me what you need."

She opens her mouth to say something, but her phone starts to ring. She immediately releases me, shifts towards the bed and answers the phone. "Mom?"

I take a step back and watch as she absently makes her way around the bed and settles down. She shifts to lean against my pillows, tucks her feet under her and replaces the phone at her ear. I can immediately tell that this is going to be a long conversation so I just smile at her, before I return to my desk. I want to give her some privacy so I shift my headphones into position and attempt to reacquaint myself with organic chemistry. It's the one subject that really breaks my brain and, with exams coming up, I can't help how anxious it all makes me feel.

This year has been difficult. They've been ups and they've been downs.

I don't know how to tell Bella, or even my mom, just how terrified I am of underperforming in my upcoming exams. Third year is supposed to be the make or break year, and I have to keep my GPA up if I'm ever going to get into medical school. I mean, it isn't as if it's dropped in this time, but it's still a worry that continually plagues me. I can't save my mom, but maybe I can save Riley, and I have to do well if I'm going to do that.

I'm in the middle of balancing a stoichiometric equation when I feel Bella's hands on my shoulders. She massages my muscles for a moment, before she drags her nails down my chest, making me shiver. She nudges my left headphone aside and kisses my ear.

"Thank you," she whispers, her breath warm against my skin.

I take my headphones off completely and turn my head to look at her. "For what?" I ask softly.

"For being you," she says, kissing the side of my head; "for being exactly who and what I need. I truly do love you, Edward."

"I love you too, Bella," I tell her because I think she needs to hear it. "I take it everyone's okay then?"

She nods against me, and I smile. "Just a little shaken up. I'm just glad that Emily wasn't there with the kids. Sam's already in a panic; imagine if his wife and kids were there." She shudders. "They're all okay though. Dad's waiting until tonight to release a statement. Whoever set that thing off is clearly trying to send some kind of message, and he wants everything investigated thoroughly before he makes decisions."

There's something in her voice, and it puts me on edge. "Bella?"

"He's a suspicious and paranoid man," she tells me.

It takes me a moment to figure out what she's trying to tell me without actually saying it. "Oh."

"I love you," she says again.

I blink a few times. "Your father finds it suspicious that these things are happening now that I'm in your life?"

She squeezes me tight. "Like I said: completely paranoid."

I don't know what to think. Or say.

Bella, thankfully, saves me from either. "I also got a text from Angela," she says. "She's reached crisis mode about her date with Ben tonight."

My mouth isn't working.

"First dates can be daunting, and I'm needed to reel her back in," she explains, releasing me and standing up straight. "A room mate has to do what a room mate has to do."

I shake my head. "Wait." I clear my throat as I turn in my chair to look at her. "Does your father think that I'm using you to get to him?"

"Or is it that he thinks _I'm_ using _you_ to get under his skin?" she counters. "Whatever he thinks is his problem, Edward. I know who you are, and you know who I am. We're working things out as we go along, but I kind of don't give a fuck what my father thinks right now."

I can't help my grin. Bella doesn't always swear but, when she does, it's important.

And fucking sexy.

She probably notices the change in my facial expression, because she lets out a happy laugh. "You're insatiable," she says with a smile. "It's too bad you won't sleep with me in your room."

I growl from deep in my throat.

Bella just laughs as she starts to gather her things. She doesn't take _everything_ , because we both know that she'll be back. Slowly, I've accumulated more and more of her things and I love it. I know it's a stupid thought, but I kind of like the idea of my room feeling more and more like _ours_.

It's even making me think about possibly moving out of the fraternity next year.

No. That's blasphemous.

Emmett would probably kill me, and Jasper would castrate me. But then again, maybe they could come with me? It's definitely a thought, especially since it looks as if Newton's going to end up flunking this year as well. I won't survive another year with the idiot.

Once Bella's ready to go, she comes to stand in front of me, settling in the V of my legs. She runs her fingers through my hair. "Please don't worry about my dad," she says softly. "Truly, Edward, there's nothing to worry about."

She's insane if she thinks that's going to work.

"Maybe, with me gone, you can actually pay attention to your work," she says knowingly, and I can't help the pink tingeing my cheeks. "Edward Masen, my little genius." She kisses my forehead, the tip of nose, and finally my mouth.

A moment later, she steps away from me, turns on her heel, and then strides out my door. I immediately stand and follow her out, just far enough to see her make it out of the house without any of my brothers bothering her. There's a general understanding among the house that Bella is off limits, even to talk, but then we do live with the excuse for a human being that is Mike Newton.

I return to my room, leave the door open, and sit back down at my desk. It takes me a little over ten minutes to get fully immersed in the endless formulae, and I lose track of time until my mom is calling me. Her immediate expression tells me that she's heard about what happened at the rally, and I love her even more for worrying so much about my girlfriend and her family. I'm quick to assure her that everyone is safe, and she breathes out a heavy sigh of relief.

Fifteen minutes into our conversation, I get a text from Bella. Well, she's sent me a picture of both her and Angela, with a caption saying: 'Please tell her she looks hot. She doesn't believe me.' I let out a light laugh and show the picture to my mom. The girls are both posing, and they both really do look hot.

"Oh, they look so lovely," my mom says, which is what I tell Bella when I reply. _And_ that they _both_ look hot.

My mom asks me about Angela, and I tell her all I can while I nibble on some day-old pasta for dinner. It's the first time that I realise that I don't actually know Angela all that well. Besides the fact that we hail from the same state, there isn't much that I know. And this is a person who's very important to my girlfriend. I make a mental note to rectify that as soon as possible. Maybe now that she's dating Ben; we'll start double dating. Jasper's always said it's a terrible idea, but I think it's time to stop taking relationship advice from him.

Bella's own reply comes several minutes later.

 **Bella: Success! Angela's on her way, and so am I. See you in a bit. X**

I can't help my grin, which my mom makes me explain. I blush as I tell her that Bella is coming over _again_ , and she just laughs at me. I'm so in love, and I'm not even a little bit afraid that my mom knows how much. I feel that she has to know. I need her to know that I'll be okay when she's gone.

She has to believe it, even if I sometimes don't.

"When are you coming home?" my mom asks, her voice taking on a whiny quality that Bella accuses my voice of doing sometimes.

I lean back and sigh heavily. "I can't make it back until after my exams," I tell her. "I'm - " I hesitate.

"What, Edward?" she immediately asks. "Sweetheart, what's wrong?"

I run a hand through my hair, tugging hard.

"You're going to end up bald if you keep doing that," she tells me softly. "Now, please tell me what's bothering you. Talk to me."

I look away for a moment, trying to find the words. In the end, it truly just boils down to one thing. "I'm scared," I whisper. I'm fucking terrified.

"Of what, honey?"

"Failing."

"At what?"

"Everything."

She leans forward. "Oh, Edward."

"I don't feel as if I'm prepared at all," I tell her. "I mean, I have been working, and I go to all my classes, but I just..." I trail off. "I'm just so tired, mom, but I can't sleep, because I can't stop stressing about everything I have to do and everything I have to learn. I'm just, I'm - "

"Edward?"

"I'm _stressed_. The other night, I woke up in a straight-up panic, my heart racing, because of the sheer amount of work that was sitting on my brain, just needing to be done. I don't know how people do this. What if I can't do it? What if - " _What if I'm just not cut out to be a doctor?_

I don't want to pile all of this on her, but it's coming out. I'm bound to freak out about my exams, and I'm not sure what's going to happen then. I mean, I should be able to talk to my mom about this kind of stuff, right? This isn't even halfway to my potential breakdown, but she can help me with this, surely.

And she does.

There's something oddly comforting about having her tell me that she's still going to love me, regardless of what happens to my GPA. Her love for me isn't based on how smart I am. She even assures me that everything I'm feeling isn't anything that other students haven't dealt with before. Even her. She eases my mind by relaying stories of her own days at university, and it does calm me a little. Not much. But enough.

We're still talking when Bella gets back, and she and my mom start up their own conversation. I use the time to excuse myself and catch a long, hot shower, letting the stream of water ease the tension in my back muscles. I think it's just what I need because I do feel much calmer when I step out.

The lights are dim in my room when I make it back, and my pajamas are spread out at the foot of my bed. It's just a plain t-shirt and checked cotton pants. I know they are one of Bella's favourites though. She likes to rub her bare legs against my pants.

Speaking of Bella. She's already in my bed, her eyes watching me carefully.

"I think it's time for bed," she says softly; quiet enough for me to know that she and my mom probably discussed my state of mind. She pats the bed beside her, inviting me to join her. "We can deal with all of that in the morning," she says, referring to the contents of my desk. "Just come lie with me."

I go.

Well, I get dressed first, and then I go.

Bella wraps her arms around me as soon as I've climbed in beside her. She wriggles in nice and close, and I can feel her soft breath against my skin. Her hold is tight and comforting, and I can almost feel the anxiety swelling up inside of me slowly start to dissipate. I'll probably freak out in the morning, but this moment is perfect. She claims that _I'm_ what _she_ needs, but she'll never truly know what she does for me.

I don't have the words to explain it to her, because I don't think that I can get through the next few weeks without her.

* * *

Bella and I spend the last night before Spring Break truly begins making our official debut at as a couple a frat party. Rose and Alice claim that it's a _big deal_ , but it's just a party, right? If I'm being perfectly honest, half of my mind is already in Seattle. I haven't been back home since before Valentine's Day, so I'm a little antsy. Every day that goes by brings us closer and closer to the end.

The inevitable.

I'm also relieved that I survived my exams. They took a lot out of me, and I can literally feel the exhaustion in my bones. But I'm going out tonight, even though I'm not entirely convinced I want to. Bella doesn't seem all that keen either, but we both know that our friends will literally come and drag us out if we don't at least make an appearance.

"Apparently we have to match," Bella tells me, standing in front of my open closet with her hands on her hips.

I'm standing just behind her, my hands snaking around her waist. I'm fresh from a shower, dressed solely in dark jeans and socks, and it's an incredible turn-on having my girlfriend pick out what she'll want to take off of me later.

"Edward," she says with a sigh, before she steps forward and grabs for a pale blue shirt on a hanger. She turns to look at me and holds the shirt out in front of my bare chest. "Alice will kill me if you wear this."

I raise my eyebrows. "You could just tell her that I didn't listen."

"She'll know," she says. "I was given strict instructions."

"What colour am I supposed to wear?"

"Green."

My eyes rake over her body. She's in a forest green dress, black leggings and the kind of heels that brings her eyes up to the level of my nose. "My green shirt is in the laundry," I tell her.

"Are you _trying_ to get out of wearing green?"

"I'm trying to get _you_ out of wearing green," I say, and she giggles. I raise my eyebrows in question, a knowing smirk taking over my face.

"First, let's find you a shirt," she says, turning back towards my closet.

I take steps back until I reach the end of my bed and sit down. She said _first_ , which gives me hope of _something_.

Bella eventually decides on a pastel green shirt. It's one I even forgot I had, and it has a long crease along the front that she stares at for a long while, before she declares that it'll just have to do. I know I'll end up having to iron it out before we leave anyway. She lays it over the back of my desk chair, before she makes her way over to me and stands in the V of my legs.

Her fingers find my hair, and she brings my face forward. With her heels on, my head rests just below her breasts, and the warmth of them is so comforting. Just her. All of her. Everything. Without my say so, I sigh contently and my eyes close. I never want to move. This is the girl for me. She's the one. I can feel it.

Sometimes I get the impression that she feels it too.

"What time is your flight?" she asks, her voice soft and breathy.

"Early," I say.

"Have you finished packing?"

"Haven't started."

She clicks her tongue in disapproval. "Edward Masen. Why?"

"Because I'm a lazy fuck?"

She laughs, and it vibrates right through her body. But then her phone is vibrating too, and she fishes it out of the little purse hanging off her right shoulder. She steps back from me to answer.

"Hello." She sighs. "I know. I told him. We're coming. No we're not. I might, if you keep nagging me. Shut up. I will. Fine. _Jesus_. I hate you too." A long pause. "Fine. Fine. Quit bitching." And then she hangs up.

I just stare up at her.

She smiles at me. "That was Rose," she tells me. "They're already at the party, and Jessica's already got her eyes on Jasper."

I groan.

"Also, she said that she may or may not hurt you if you make us late."

"Why does she think _I'm_ the one who's going to make us late?"

Her eyes rake over my body, and I can't help my shiver. "You aren't even dressed."

"You're the one with the clothing instructions. I would have been ready ages ago," I argue. "My perfectly blue shirt is just sitting there, waiting to be worn."

"Do you _want_ Alice to kill us?" she asks, rolling her eyes.

"If that means that we don't have to go, then yes."

She laughs before she steps further back and away from me. "Come on - let's get you dressed."

"Just so you can undress me?"

"I thought we weren't having sex in your bedroom," she points out.

"And I thought you weren't sleeping with me," I shoot back.

"Get dressed, Edward."

I do.

It takes us another ten minutes to get out of the house. If she were any other person, we might have walked to the Delta house; but she's the President's daughter, and Harry would never allow it. I don't mind. I think I'm getting used to being driven around. So is Jasper.

Speaking of Jasper.

As soon as we arrive, we're accosted by Rose.

"Thank God you're here," she says, loud enough to draw attention to us, as she slips an arm through Bella's. "Eddie, please can you get Whitlock away from that skank? I'm about to slap a bitch."

My surprise outweighs my annoyance at her use of my hated nickname.

"Now," she growls.

I let out a laugh, drop a kiss to Bella's temple, and then head off in search of my blond friend. It doesn't take me long to find him. All I have to do is follow the annoying shrill of Jessica's laughter. I roll my eyes as I head into the kitchen to find Jasper leaning against a counter, with Jessica hanging off of his neck.

"Whitlock," I say, and his eyes snap towards me. They widen for a moment, before he's pushing Jessica away from him. "A word," I say. It's not a question. There's no hint of a request in my tone, and he follows without question.

We're barely out into the corridor before he's talking.

"Whatever you want to say; just save it," he says, sounding annoyed.

I just stare at him.

"What do you want from me?" he asks accusingly. "Not everyone can be fucking perfect like you. We don't all get the happily ever after."

He's drunk; I can tell. He wouldn't be saying any of these things if he weren't.

"I'm not the guy who gets the girl, Edward," he says. "I had her, and then I fucked up." He runs a hand through his hair, tugging on it until it looks like it hurts. "I _keep_ fucking up, and she deserves better. Of course she does. She's fucking perfect, and _I_ hurt her. I'm a fucking asshole, Masen, and this is what I deserve."

If I'm being honest, I didn't know what I was going to say to him when I asked him to come out here. Now I'm even more lost. Who am I really to tell him how to live his life anyway? All I want to tell him is _not Jessica_. Really, anyone but Jessica. Anyone else. _Everyone_ else.

"So just save it!" he finishes, and then stalks away. He heads back into the kitchen. I hear him mutter something dismissive to Jessica, before he comes back out with a bottle of gin in his one hand and a _Corona_ in the other. The _Corona_ 's for me; I can tell. "I'm a fucker, so I may as well get fucked."

"Can I join you?" I ask unnecessarily. Maybe I haven't been spending enough time with him, given schoolwork and my family and Bella. I also think that I'm harbouring some displaced resentment towards him regarding his apparent knowledge of the true extent of my mom's illness at Christmas. I'm working through that though.

He hands me the Corona, and then starts to walk.

I follow.

We end up outside on the grass, lying on our backs and staring up at the stars. We're not talking and, despite bringing alcohol out with us, neither of us has had a sip. I think he's trying to make a decision, and he recognises that he needs to be coherent to do that.

It's some time later that we're joined by Emmett, Rose, Bella, Angela and Ben, Angela's _official_ boyfriend. Wait, and Alice. They kind of form a ring around us, forcing us both to sit up. Bella leans into me and asks a question with her eyes. All I can really do is shrug, because I don't know what's going on in Jasper's head. I barely know what's going on in my own half of the time.

We all chat about nothing in particular. Well, not _all_ of us. It becomes painfully clear to all of us that Jasper isn't participating in conversation because he is blatantly staring at Alice. Really, he's unashamed about it, and I don't know whether to hug or to kick him. I nudge him instead, and it's like he comes out of a trance.

His eyes turn to me. "What?"

"Dude," I say, extending the word. I lean in close to whisper. "Are you just going to sit there or are you going to do something?"

It takes him another moment, before he seems to make that all-elusive decision. He stands up quite suddenly; much quicker for someone who was halfway to plastered not some forty minutes ago. He walks through our little circle, and extends his hand to Alice. "Miss Brandon," he says, adding his undeniable Southern charm to his voice; the wanker. "Might we talk?"

Alice just stares at him, blinking repeatedly.

It's funny; I've never seen the little energy bunny so silent before. Alice gets her own nudge from Rose, and then she and Jasper are headed off further into the darkness of the back yard of the house. _Hand in hand_.

They're out of earshot when Bella and Rose let out a squeal in unison. Great. My girlfriend is _also_ a squealer.

"It doesn't mean anything though," Rose says calmly, bringing herself back down. "They're just talking."

"Oh, I really do hope that they do talk," Bella says, before she turns to look at me. "What did you say to him?"

I blink. "Nothing," I admit, which is the truth. "Literally nothing."

Her brow creases. "But - "

"Don't analyse it," I tell her; "Just take the win, Bella."

It's only later, and after quite a few drinks, that we find out what that _win_ truly means. I get a text from Jasper, and Rose gets one from Alice. I don't ask what Alice's says, but I show mine to Bella.

 **Jasper: You were right, but don't let it go to your head now. I'm sorry about the shit I said... We're going somewhere else to talk some more. And yes, just to talk.**

Another one arrives twenty minutes later.

 **Jasper: Fuck, you were right, Masen! You were so fucking right. I don't know how I ever spent a second without her.**

And another one two minutes later.

 **Jasper: Is it too soon to tell her I'm desperately in love with her?**

I consider my response carefully, consult Bella, and then tell him to do whatever he thinks feels right. I don't get a text after that, which makes me assume that things must have gone well. We all toast to them, and then get completely smashed.

Well, not Bella. She's too mindful of people and their smart phones, as well as her Secret Service. I pout a little, but she assures me that we'll have our own private party later.

In the end, it definitely is an interesting night, and Bella and I make it back to my room just before three o'clock in the morning. I'm a little drunk. Okay, I'm _a lot_ drunk, which is the only reason that I allow Bella to undress me when her hands start on my clothes. She asks me if I'm okay, and I remember nodding. She kisses me, and then I kind of forget everything that happens after that.

Just hands and mouths, tongues and fingers.

I love her. I love her. I love her. Over and over again. I love her. I love her. I love her.

Bella's still in my bed when I wake up, though she's fully dressed and typing something on her phone.

"Oh good," she says, eyeing me; "you're up."

I groan, blinking tiredly. "Wha - "

" _Wha_ to you too, _Dr_ Masen," she says with a laugh.

I close my eyes again and clear my throat. My head is pounding. "What time is it?"

"Six thirty."

"Fuck," I groan again. Trust me to be the one to fly home hungover.

"The boys are ready to go in half an hour," she tells me.

I roll onto my back. "Fuck, Bella - I haven't even packed."

"Well, it's a good thing that you have me then, isn't it?"

My eyes snap open. "What?" What did she just say? Did she pack my bag for me? I look around and spot my suitcase perched by her feet, already packed and ready to go. Oh my God - this girl.

She rolls her eyes at my bewildered expression. "You know, I get ridiculously happy whenever you actually act your age," she says gently. "You really are such a guy sometimes."

"Because I didn't pack?"

She nods her head. " _And_ you got ridiculously drunk, and then totally let me have my dirty way with you."

I groan again, remembering. "Oh, well, fuck."

She laughs. "Is that your new favourite word?"

"You took advantage of me," I accuse playfully, and she just looks deathly amused.

She hops up off the bed, seeming a little too happy this morning. "I don't care what you _think_ happened, but I wasn't the only one participating." There is _so much_ in her tone of voice, that I can feel my entire body beginning to tense up. I'm definitely awake now. "Consider this room officially christened," she says with a smile, and I immediately lunge for her.

She squeals, and then harrumphs once I've got her under me. "Edward," she says breathily. "You have a flight to catch. We don't have time."

Maybe we don't. Not right now, at least.

But it doesn't stop me from thinking that the two of us, well, we have _forever_.


	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter Twelve**

Riley is in the hospital for his birthday. We've been through a lot, my little family and I; but I don't think that much can come close to witnessing Riley's complete devastation when he's told that he can't leave his hospital bed, or that none of his friends will be able come and visit him.

I have to leave the room before _I'm_ the one who starts to cry.

My first few days of Spring Break have great. Perfect, even. I spent most of my time with my mom. Sometimes Carlisle was around, and sometimes he wasn't. I think he's actively giving me time with her, and I appreciate him even more for it.

But then Riley contracted an infection, and now here we are again. They know us rather well here at Seattle Children's Hospital, and I hate it. I fucking hate it. They're great people, of course, but I wish that we didn't know them the way that we do. I mean, I've been Riley's hot Uncle Edward to the nurses for a while now, but now I'm also Isabella Swan's boyfriend. I can't wait for the day when Riley and the rest of us are done with this place.

After I leave Riley's room, I find a relatively quiet corridor and sink down into a free chair. I'm feeling _it_ \- that crushing feeling that has a firm grip on my heart, and it is squeezing. How am I supposed to do this? How are any of us? Fuck, I can't even think about what my brother and Charlotte are going through right now.

Carlisle is the one who finds me. The staff know him well here, even though he doesn't actually work here. It doesn't matter though; he isn't here as a doctor. He's here as family, and that's all that matters. He's _here_.

He sits down next to me, as graceful as ever, and lets out a soft sigh. I can see he's tired. It's deep in his bones. He came straight here from a double shift at the hospital he works at, and he's _here_.I mean, what wonderful things did one of us do to deserve this man?

"They're moving him," he says quietly. "There's a room with a view of the playground that I think he'll like."

Just from the way he says the words; I know that he had something to do with it. I don't really know what to say to him other than thank you, but I think that'll just embarrass him, so I say nothing.

"It's an infection that we caught early enough to treat less intensively," he reminds me. "And that's only because of you, Edward. Because you were with him, and because you know what to look for."

I swallow audibly.

"It is not my intention to try to make light of what is happening, but I think that maybe we should all look at the silver lining here."

I glance at him. "And what's that?"

"Riley's body is fighting."

I blink.

"His body is fighting, Edward."

There is a lot to be garnered from that one statement, but I'm smart enough not to allow myself to hope. Look what's happening to my mother. But then, Riley's young, and maybe this clinical trial is actually working. Could it be?

Carlisle pats my knee. "Maybe you should call Bella. Tell her what's happening."

It's a testament to how well Carlisle already knows me, that he knows that what I do need right now is to talk to my girlfriend. I don't really know if I can actually form the words to tell her what's happening, but I call anyway. I wait until he leaves me to take out my phone and dial her number.

Bella answers on the fourth ring. "Hello."

I can hear the hesitation in her voice. It's the middle of the morning, and she can probably sense that I'm calling at this time for a very specific reason. I break down in a heap of sobs when I tell her where I am and why. I just - how am I supposed to do this? How? I need somebody to tell me. Someone. Anyone. _Please_.

Bella practically coos, and her words are soft and soothing, warming me from the inside out.

"Do you want me to come there?" she asks, and I'm tempted. I'm _so_ tempted.

"No," I say. "He's going to be fine. You spend time with your family, okay?"

"Edward," she says, her voice still gentle, but a little accusatory.

"I'm okay," I say, which is a fucking lie and we both know it. "It's just, you know, it's his birthday, and I - " I choke, and then cough. "I wish he wasn't in here _today_. I mean, what can I even do to make it special when his friends can't even come see him and he's confined to a bed?"

Bella is silent for a moment. "I have an idea," she says eventually.

If I think she's going to tell me what that idea is, I'm severely mistaken. Instead, she tells me that she's going to take care of everything, and I have no idea what that means. Before she hangs up, I'm informed that she has some other plans to make, and that she'd call me later.

 _Later_.

Fuck if I ever knew what my glorious girlfriend is capable of.

I don't know what's happening until Harry arrives at the hospital. That's right: _Harry_. He's got a laptop with him, which he gives to me along with a list of instructions. I have so many questions, but he doesn't answer any of them. Typical Harry.

"Just do what the instructions say, Edward."

It's the first time he's actually ever said my name, and it shocks me to silence. I nod dumbly, and then go into Riley's room. He _does_ have a lovely view, but he still looks miserable. Though, he does perk up when he spots me.

"What's that?" he asks, his voice low and dry.

"I don't know," I tell him, and it's the truth. "Bella sent it."

That rouses everyone's attention, and they all sit up in their seats.

I set the laptop down on Riley's tray table and roll it over to him. I put everything in position before I look at the instruction sheet. It's written in Bella's handwriting, and I can't help my smile. God, this girl - I fucking adore her.

I follow the instructions by opening the laptop and logging in. The password is my full name, Anthony included, which I find quite amusing. I open _Skype_ as instructed, go online, and then call the contact: Peter. I have no idea who that is, but I'm trusting Bella. She'd never let me down.

Hah.

I freak out more than Riley does when _Peter_ eventually answers, and his face pops up. Peter. As in Peter Parker. It's Tom Holland, and ohmigod ohmigod! I'm in such shock that I don't even hear what he's saying to Riley when he starts speaking. Tom Holland is talking to Riley. Peter Parker.

 _Spider-Man_ is talking to Riley.

"And this is my uncle, Edward," Riley says, and I snap to attention.

My eyes focus on the laptop screen, and Tom fucking Holland is smiling at me. He says words but I don't really hear them. Something about Bella. Thankfully, after my mindless nodding, he returns his attention to Riley.

He's here for Riley anyway. Not me.

I mean, is this really happening? Riley's smile is literally splitting his face, and I don't even know how this is happening. Bella's insane. She's also desperately amazing, and I need to talk to her right now. I place a quick kiss on Riley's head, and then I back out of the room as quietly as I can. As soon as I close the door, I take out my phone and immediately dial Bella's number.

It goes straight to voicemail, and I let out a long sigh. Trust the signal to flake out at a time like this.

"Oh, sorry, I forgot to turn my phone back on when I landed," a voice says behind me, and I turn sharply, my heart skipping a beat.

If I thought Tom Holland was something to behold, then the sight of Isabella Swan standing in front of me completely floors me. My mouth drops open and my eyes go wide. Wait. What? What is she doing here?

Is she really here?

"Bella," I whisper, my eyes darting around the otherwise empty corridor. I'm certain that Harry's around here somewhere. I should have known he wouldn't have gone anywhere without his charge.

She smiles innocently. "What are you doing out here?"

I blink. "Uh, I was just trying to call my girlfriend to tell her that she's amazing," I force out. "But it's going straight to voicemail."

"That's weird."

"It is."

She takes a step towards me. "How are you, Edward?"

"I think I'm dreaming, if I'm being honest."

"Why's that?"

"My girlfriend's supposed to be in Maryland, but she's standing right in front of me."

She raises her eyebrows. "That's weird," she says again.

"It is."

She smiles at me. "How's Riley?"

Fuck if I can answer that question right now. "Bella, what are you doing here?"

"I know you didn't actually say the words, but I could tell that you needed me," she says. "So I came. I hope that's okay."

I shake my head. "Are you kidding me?" I reach for her, and pull her into my arms. "It's better than okay." I hold her tighter than necessary, but she's here, and my brain hasn't truly caught up to that fact. Bella is right here. In my arms. And my family is just inside the other room.

Well, everyone but my mom. She's at home with Carlisle. But Bella's here. She's right here, and she's going to meet my family. She's going to meet my mom. Wait.

I pull back suddenly. "Are you staying?" I ask.

"Just for tonight, if that's okay."

I kiss her softly. I've missed her these past few days.

She pulls away first. "How is Riley, really?" she asks again.

"Why don't you ask him yourself?"

Her eyes widen. "What? No. Edward, I can't do that. I mean, it - and I - uh... I'm not even family."

"Nonsense," I say. "You're _my_ family."

She blushes immediately and drops her gaze from my face. I don't dare look away. She has to know what she means to me. She has to know that I don't ever want to go through a life where I'm not with her. I can't and I won't.

"Thank you," I whisper. "For being here. For Tom; for making my kid nephew smile. God, Bella, you should have seen him. I don't think that anyone could have given him a better birthday present. Seriously."

She bites her bottom lip. "It's not too much? I hope I haven't overstepped."

I kiss her forehead reassuringly. "I promise you that seeing that kid beam like that was worth it. You have to let him tell you all about it himself. He's been asking me all sorts of questions about you, you know."

Her gaze meets mine. "He has?"

"Oh yeah."

"And Tori too."

She suddenly looks nervous. "I just got on a flight across the country and this is the first moment that I'm actually thinking about what that means... I mean, I didn't even ask you if you wanted me to meet your family. I sort of just came, and now we're here, and I - "

"Bella," I say, cutting her off before she winds herself into a panic. "Of course I want you to meet my family. I promise that I am so glad you're here; I'm literally bursting with it."

"I didn't want to assume."

I draw her into another hug. She's being a little silly, but I love her for it. "Come on - meet my family."

I wonder what it is about Bella, because the nurses see no need to put up a fuss about the fact that she technically isn't family. Her hand in mine is enough, I suppose. Or it's that she's the First Daughter; who knows?

Her fingers squeeze mine, and she suddenly feels so small. I glance at her and spy her trapped lip. "Are you really that nervous?"

"Deathly."

"My mom isn't here," I tell her, as if that should ease her. "She's at home."

"I'm not nervous about meeting your _mom_ , Edward," she informs me.

"Then what?"

"It's stupid."

I smile at her. "Tell me anyway."

She squeezes my hand. "Were you feeling any of this?" she asks; "about meeting my family?"

I don't tell her that I've been feeling a hell of a lot more than nervousness about meeting her family. I also don't tell her that I've developed a dangerous skill of compartmentalisation. Thankfully, she saves me from a response, by continuing to speak.

"What if your sister doesn't like me? And, I mean, Peter's probably really protective of you, and I made you wait so long, and, I don't know, what if they don't like me? And Riley. Gosh, I mean, what if - "

"Bella," I say, and she blushes madly.

"I'm sorry," she says.

"It's okay," I assure her.

She drops her gaze. "Also, I mean, I know you don't like my father because of his healthcare stuff, so I just - I mean, would they also not like me because of that as well? I know it's crazy but these are the things that I think about."

I release her hand and take her head in my hands, forcing her to look at me. "It's not crazy, Bella. You're allowed to feel whatever you want to feel, you know?"

She just blinks.

I smile. I can't help it. She so cute just standing here with her wide brown eyes and pink cheeks, looking at me as if I hold the answers to life's mysteries. "I can't speak for them," I tell her. "We each hold our own resentment, but _I love you_. I don't think it's inconceivable that my flesh and blood will love you as well."

She lays her hands over mine and we just stare at each other for a moment. I wouldn't be able to say what's so significant about this moment, but it feels monumental. It feels grand, and I take a shaky breath. This is it. We're tethered together in unimaginable ways already and, by the end of this week; a separation would kill me. It's dramatic, and it's profound.

But it's fucking true.

"I love you," she says.

The moment I open my mouth to reply; Riley's door flies open, and Tori stands in the doorway. Her mouth is poised to say something to me but, the moment she spies Bella; she squeals. Yes, folks, she _squeals_.

Bella startles, and one of the nurses at the station down the corridor knocks over a empty coffee cup. If my ears weren't ringing, I'm sure I would find it amusing.

"Oh my God!" Tori says. "Isabella Swan is here."

Bella drops her hands, steps away from me and blushes. "Uh, hi," she says.

Before either of us can say anything, Tori rushes towards Bella and wraps her in a tight hug. I can't help my grin, especially when Bella stares wide-eyed at me over Tori's shoulder. She looks panicked for a moment, before she relaxes and returns the sudden embrace.

I hear Tori say thank you, and then Charlotte is also in the doorway, probably roused by Tori's reaction. A second later, Bella's wrapped in another hug, and I laugh. I can't help it.

"What's all the ruckus?" Peter asks, joining us in the doorway. His eyes soften when he spots Bella, but he doesn't join the group hug.

But I do.

I wrap my arms around all three women, and am rewarded with three separate giggles. Truthfully, I don't want to let go of any of them; as if I can somehow protect them all from the world as it is.

Peter clears his throat, and we are all forced to break apart.

"Hello, Bella," he says, a small smile on his face. He looks rather amused, if anything.

"Hello, Peter," she returns, and there's a bit more giggling.

"Would you ladies like to come inside?" he asks.

"Hey, what about me?" I ask.

Peter glances at me. "Like I said: _ladies_."

I fake a laugh, and we all go inside. Bella hesitates for a moment, but then Tori is tugging on her arm. We want her here; there's no question about it.

If I'm being honest, I have no idea what I'm expecting.

But it's everything. _Everything_. The way Bella just slots into our little family warms me from the inside out, practically burning me. She's so present and attentive, giving each of my family members her full attention whenever they're speaking.

The way she is with Riley melts my heart. The little guy can't contain his excitement when she first walks in and he invites her to sit with him on his bed. He tells her _everything_ about his conversation with Tom Holland, and she listens intently to all of it, a soft smile permanently on her face.

If I wasn't already dangerously in love with her; I'm sure it would have happened in the hour it takes for exhaustion to catch up with Riley and he falls asleep mid-sentence, his body falling into Bella.

She looks panicked for a second, her eyes searching for mine, silently asking me what to do. I just smile at her, and she relaxes, accepting the weight of him against her.

It's Tori's turn after that, and Bella stays focused until she lets out her first yawn. It's been a long day for her, flying across the country. Peter glances at me, and I take the cue. I should take Bella home.

Tori puts up a little fight. Of course she does.

Bella is so careful as she slips away from Riley. Once she's standing upright, she straightens out her clothes and looks at the sleeping boy. For a moment, she just looks at him, and I just look at her.

So softly that I barely hear her; she whispers, "Sleep tight, Riley. You get better, bud. He won't handle losing you too."

I blink. I definitely wasn't supposed to hear that. Really, what am I even supposed to do with that?

Bella lifts her hand and gently shifts Riley's bangs away from his eyes, her fingers brushing over his forehead. He's so different when he's asleep; so much _smaller_ , as if it's his personality that makes him larger than life.

Eventually, she looks back at me, and smiles sadly. I look away, because I don't want to see my life's truth in her eyes.

And then we're going.

We bid Charlotte, Peter and Tori goodnight, before I take Bella's hand and lead the way out of the room. Charlotte's going to spend the night here, and Peter and Tori will come home in a little while.

I think that they just want to give me and Bella a little time with my mom.

Harry is waiting for us in the corridor. I'm sure that Billy is around here somewhere, but I don't bother to look. If he doesn't want to be seen, then there's no point in even trying.

Bella's fingers squeeze mine as we walk, and she bumps me with her shoulder. "I love your family," she says quietly.

"I'm certain that they love you too," I reply just as softly.

"Riley is adorable, Edward. Like, you talked about how cute he was, but he's a muffin cupcake in person. Just want to eat him up."

I laugh because I can't help it. Who even says things like that?

The drive to my house is uneventful. I don't question how Harry knows where I live. I'm not even surprised by it, though it does make me a little uncomfortable.

When we pull up in front of the house, neither of us moves, as if reality is just now catching up to us. This entire day feels like it's not happening to me. So many things have happened that I can't even fathom. Bella is here. She's right here with me.

"How are you?" Bella asks me, knowing full-well that it's a loaded question.

 _Clearly_ , we're not getting out of the car any time soon. "I'm so glad you're here."

She raises her eyebrows. "You told me not to come."

"I know."

"Edward, you're going to have to tell me what you need, okay?" Her voice is gentle, though slightly accusing. "Contrary to popular belief, I'm not a mind-reader - particularly not over the phone."

"I know."

She sighs. "I'm glad I'm here too. I missed you."

I put my arm around her and draw her towards me. She's so warm and soft, and how did I ever survive these past few days without her? "I missed you too."

There's a moment where she just stares up at me, and I see her make a decision. It only takes a moment, but I can tell that she's come to that same monumental conclusion that I had earlier. _This is it_. This, right here, it's _it_ for the both of us. My childish dreams led me here, to this very moment, with this amazing, wonderful, sometimes infuriating girl, who loves me.

She loves me.

But I'm not a child anymore. It's no longer a dream. I'm looking at her, and it's a reality.

"Do you want to go inside?" I ask her.

She waits a beat before she nods. "Just, first, how do I look?"

"Perfect," I automatically say.

Her eyes narrow. "The truth, Edward," she endeavours. "Do I look as if I just flew across the country?"

I blink. "Yes."

She sighs.

"But you do still look perfect," I add.

She shakes her head, though she's smiling. "What am I ever going to do with you?"

I raise my eyebrows. "Believe me, I can think of a few things."

In way of a response, Bella leans forward to kiss me. It's a quick one, because then we're climbing out of the car and heading towards the house. I don't know if Harry sent a team ahead or not, but he seems very calm as Bella and I cross the front lawn towards the front door, hand-in-hand.

"Spring in Seattle isn't very _springy_ ," Bella comments as we reach the front porch.

"You're just lucky you missed the rain this morning," I tell her, as I push open the front door. " _That_ was depressing." I step into the house, and Bella crosses the threshold behind me. She's here. In my house. Sweet Jesus.

She's _here_.

"Mom?" I call out.

"We're in here," Carlisle says, his disembodied voice coming from the living room.

I look at Bella, and smile. "You okay?" I whisper.

She nods, her smile suddenly splitting her face. "I'm weirdly excited. I've wanted to meet her for so long."

I lead her through the house, watching her take it all in. I make a mental note to take her on a tour later. "Everyone decent?" I ask.

Carlisle lets out a laugh, but shuts up completely when Bella and I step through into the living room.

My mom is propped up on the couch, wrapped in several blankets, looking calm, relaxed, though decidedly concerned. She's thinking about Riley, I can tell. I can only imagine the burden _she's_ feeling with the way all our lives are going. But then, I swear I can't even begin to explain the sudden rush of _emotion_ that seems to wash over her the moment she spots Bella.

"Oh my."

Bella moves past me towards my mom. "Hi, Esme," she says.

"Oh, Bella." There are tears. Holy shit, she's crying. Wait. Bella's also crying. What?

I look at Carlisle, and he looks a little emotional as well. What the hell? What is happening right now?

"Edward?"

My eyes snap towards the couch. "Hmm?"

My mom is looking at me curiously. "Come, sweetheart, both of you, sit with me," she says.

It takes us a moment. I shift the coffee table out of the way, and Bella and I drop down onto the carpet in front of her. Carlisle settles in a armchair to our right, and we talk. I don't really know what we talk about. I wouldn't be able to tell anyone. It's just being here; having Bella _here_.

My mom is tired. We can all see it, but she wants to stay up, so we let her. We're at the stage where we're going to give her anything and everything that she wants.

Carlisle gets called in to the hospital a little before ten o'clock, and he politely excuses himself, reminding my mom not to overdo it, and make sure she takes her medication. They smile fondly at each other, and he drops a kiss onto the top of her head.

Bella leans into me then, as if she knows what I need. And I think that she _does_ know though. I need _her_.

As soon as Carlisle's gone, my mom smiles mischievously at me. "Sweetheart, do you know what I'm feeling like?"

I return her smile. I can't help it. "Ice cream." It it isn't even a question. I already know what's she's going to ask for. Carlisle tells me that she keeps asking for things, delicacy things, sweet things, and he says it with tears in his eyes. She knows her body better than we do.

It's almost time.

She bats her eyelashes, as if I could ever dream of saying no to her. "Just one scoop."

I grin. "Are you sure? Only one?"

She winks at me, and I slowly rise to my feet, my legs creaking from being still for so long.

I look at Bella. "And for the incorrigible Miss Swan?"

Bella also winks. "Maybe two for me."

I let out a short laugh, before I turn and head out of the living room. I can't help the feeling of content that wants to wash over me, but I'm wary of letting it. Too much is happening right now, and I don't want to jinx anything.

Generally, I'm not a suspicious person, but I am cautious. Is that the same thing?

Once I'm in the kitchen, I make a beeline for the freezer and pull the door open. Of course, there are so many flavours and I wouldn't even know which flavour either of them want _today_ , so I shut the freezer door and head back to the living room, intending to ask.

Only, I don't enter. I _can't_ , because I stop when I hear it. I hear the _reason_ my mom actually wants ice cream.

"How is he, really?" I hear my mom ask, and my breath catches in my throat. "He mentioned that he was tired and stressed before, but he doesn't really talk to me about what he's feeling about ant of this; _all_ of this." She takes a shaky breath. Speaking all these words must be difficult for her. "So, I need you to tell me; how is he, Bella? How is he really? Is he coping?"

I close my eyes.

 _Lie_ _lie lie_. I mentally tell Bella to lie to her. My mom doesn't need to know. She should go her whole life without ever knowing how this is all going to end up ruining me.

There's a long silence, and I think that maybe Bella can hear my panicked thoughts. If ever I needed my girlfriend to read minds; it's right now.

But no.

"I don't know what to tell you," Bella says so softly, that I barely hear her. There's some more silence. "He's been running a lot."

I suck in a sharp breath. That sentence means more to my mom than Bella will ever know, and I just know that she's now going to try to talk to me about it. Because - oh fuck, Bella.

Even Emmett and Jasper know what my 'running' really means. It's my escape, which has proved to be dangerous at times. They all know how I turned to running after my dad died, and after Makenna. I didn't get much sleep either at the time and, as a result; I ended up being hospitalised for exhaustion.

Let's just say that mother dearest gave me quite the talking to after that. She'd yelled, and there'd been tears. _Why, Edward? Why are you doing this? Do you want to leave me too? Do you want to leave me like your father?  
_

So I stopped. And now - just, fuck.

It's one of the reasons that I can't join the track team. Well, I _won't_. I mean, my friends won't let me, and my mom definitely won't either. She's going to wonder what happens to me when she's gone. I'll probably end up running myself right into the ground, and now she knows it. Great. Just great.

I back away, and return to the kitchen.

I settle on vanilla for them both.

They're still talking when I return, but it's not about me anymore. The air is a little icy, and I can tell that I may be in for it with both of them. Separately, at least. I shudder to think about how I would handle a tag team. They're each already fucking scary by themselves.

Peter and Tori get home about ten minutes later, and I've never been so relieved to see them. Truly. They lift the mood, and Tori is the one who is able to convince my mom that it's time for her to go to bed. Peter helps her up. On any other night, he would have carried her, but she clearly doesn't want Bella to see.

Even in illness, she's so fucking proud.

In the end, it's just Bella and I left in the living room while my siblings see to my mom's bedtime routine, and my heart hurts. I mean, it isn't as if I entertained the idea that my mom would allow me not to talk about all of this, but I would have liked to put it off for as long as possible. I suspect that Carlisle's also had a word with her, merely informing her that I'm bound to lose it.

Bella reaches for my left hand, which is held in a tight fist. "Edward," she whispers. "Relax."

I can't.

"Talk to me."

I look at her. "Bella?"

"Edward?"

I open my mouth, and then close it. I don't know what I even want to say, but I probably still should.

"What's wrong?" she asked.

I swallow audibly. "Why did you tell my mother that I go running?"

She frowns. "Because you do."

I sigh. I can't even be mad, because it isn't as if Bella _knows_. I've never told her. Should I even tell her? I mean, it isn't as if it's a problem, right? People run all the time, right?

Tori's return saves me from an explanation, and Bella allows my avoidance. I suspect she'll also want to have a talk with me at some point, and just the thought of it makes me want to go for a run _right now_. So, while my sister's busy going through photo albums with Bella, I stand up and leave the room. I just about curb my desire to run by having a scorching hot shower, as if I can possibly burn off the hurts of the day.

Bella is in my bedroom when I reenter, with only a towel wrapped around my waist. She raises her eyebrows at my pink skin, but says nothing. She just sits on my bed and watches me as I put on pajamas that consist of flannel pants and a faded t-shirt. Once I'm ready, I move to stand in front of my bed. I can't help feeling as if I'm about to receive a scolding, and I'm going to put it off for as long as possible.

"Has everyone gone to bed?" I ask.

She nods. "I just about managed to pry myself away from Tori," she says, smiling slightly. "We were diving deep into photos of naked toddler Edward."

I groan. "Will you ever look at me the same way?"

"Of course," she says; "I love you." For a moment, she says nothing. Then: "And I'm worried about you."

I sigh. I really don't want to get into this right now. "Bella," I say tiredly.

She stands up, and it's the first time I notice that she's also had a change of clothes, and her hair looks a little damp. My eyes widen slightly; for how long was I in the shower? Seriously. I watch as she moves towards me, her hands already reaching out for me.

I don't know what's going to happen when she touches me, so I step back and shake my head. "Uh," I mumble. "I should probably check on, umm, my mom." I back away, and then escape from my room before she can say anything.

What the fuck is wrong with me? My girlfriend flies across the country to be with me, and I, what? What the fuck are you doing, Edward?

The house is already dark as I make my way through it. I head down the stairs and do a systematic sweep of every room, kind of the same way I do at the Sig Eps house. It calms me slightly; I don't know why. I check the front door, _just because_ , and move through the kitchen. The ice cream bowls are sitting in the kitchen sink, and I move to wash them. Anything to put off having to talk to Bella.

Unfortunately, my avoidance doesn't last all that long. Once I've swept the downstairs, I have to head back upstairs. I drop in to check on my mom to find her sleeping soundly, though her breathing sounds particularly painful. I close my eyes for a moment, feeling my heart constrict. Carlisle mentioned that it was probably a good idea to start making plans for hospice and possible pain management.

 _I'm_ the person he tells these things, because Peter has to worry about Riley, and Tori is too young.

I don't want to be the one to make these decisions. None of us should have to.

When I finally make it back to my bedroom, nothing much has changed. Only the lampshade is on now and Bella is in my bed. She's typing something on her phone, but she sets it down when I step in and close the door behind me. I don't lock it.

"Are you done avoiding me now?" she asks pointedly, raising her eyebrows.

I don't say anything as I move forward and climb into bed beside her. I lie on my back and stare at my ceiling; it's suddenly very interesting.

Bella rolls onto her side and looks at me. "Tell me what you're thinking," she says gently.

"Why?"

"Because I think you need it."

I swallow. "I don't know what you want me to say," I begin.

"I don't _want_ you to say anything," she assures me. "I'm not your mom, Edward. You don't have to tell me what you think I want to hear."

I turn my head to look at her. "I'm so glad that you're here," I tell her, because it's the truth. "I'm fine, but I'm also not." It doesn't make any sense, but I get the feeling that she understands, even though I sometimes don't. "I just - I want it all to stop. Why won't everything just stop? Can't it - " my voice catches and I look away. A moment later, I feel her hand on my cheek, her fingers brushing over my skin.

She doesn't say anything, and I think I prefer it that way.

"I'm so glad that you're here," I say again., because I need her to know. She has to know.

Bella waits a beat before she wraps her arms around me, practically holding me together. "There's nowhere else I would rather be."

I believe her.

* * *

I wake up to the smell of breakfast. My bedroom door is open, and it's wafting in from the downstairs. A quick look to my right tells me that I'm alone in my bed, and it prompts me into action. Goodness only knows what stories my family could be telling Bella right now.

I hurry through getting ready, and then make my way downstairs to find Bella alone in the kitchen, bent over the stove. I automatically smile at the sight of her, before I sneak in behind her and wrap my arms around her waist.

She startles at first, but then she relaxes into me. "Good morning," she says.

I kiss her cheek. "Hello, beautiful."

She lets out a small laugh.

"What are you doing?" I ask.

"Well, until a few minutes ago; Tori and I were making pancakes, but she seems to have given up," she tells me. "Perhaps it's too early in the morning, or something like that."

"Perhaps," I agree. "But, you know you don't have to make breakfast, right?"

"I know."

"It smells amazing though."

Bella breaks off a piece from the pile of pancakes on a plate to her right, and puts it in my mouth.

I gently bite at her fingers, and I feel as a shiver shoots down her body. I press against her, my heart racing.

"Edward," she breathes. "What are you doing?"

"Nothing," I whisper, all innocence.

"Edward Masen, you're going to make me end up burning these pancakes."

"It's just, you know, we never did Christen my bedroom," I say, my breath washing over her skin.

She shivers again, as if I've stimulated a neuron deep inside of her. "Edward," she says again, and then it's all systems ahead. Bella switches off the stove in record time, discards the pan and spatula, and then turns to face me.

"Let's go."

And so we go. We race up the stairs to my bedroom. I slam my door, lock it, and am immediately attacked by Bella and her glorious, wonderful, amazing hands. And then her mouth.

As much as I want to take my time, I know we can't. So it's quick. Like, embarrassingly quick, and I have to laugh about it, though Bella doesn't say anything. Maybe I'm more messed up than I think.

I'll really start worrying about it when I can't get it up.

The rest of the morning flies by, so quickly that I barely feel it. Charlotte comes home, and Peter heads out. Tori and I will go to the hospital when Bella leaves, which she has to remind me constantly is at two o'clock.

I never want two o'clock to arrive.

But it does, and Bella makes the rounds saying goodbye to members of my family. She has to go upstairs to my mom's room, because she hasn't come out today. The events of yesterday must have really taken it out of her. Once Bella's done with her farewells, she slips her hand into mine and leads me out the front door.

Really, I can't stop myself from pouting.

Bella finds it rather amusing, as she pulls me in for one last hug when we reach the road, and the waiting SUV.

"I'll see you in a couple of days," she says against my chest.

"Saturday," I clarify. "I will see you on Saturday. Nice and early."

"Are you nervous about it?"

"A little," I admit.

She pulls away to look at me. "They're going to love you, you know?"

"Because _you_ do?"

She grins at me. "My boyfriend is a genius."

I get another hug, a kiss, a quick goodbye, another longer kiss, and then she's going. I stand on the sidewalk and watch the car drive away until it disappears. Things are changing. This relationship is more real than it's ever been and, yes, it's terrifying, but also _not_ at the same time. Does that make sense?

It doesn't even matter.

As long as Bella understands me.


	13. Chapter 13

**Chapter Thirteen**

As promised, I arrive in Maryland _nice and early_ on Saturday. I can't say that I'm in a good mood, though the sight of Bella _does_ lift my mood. I don't want to be in a bad mood, but I also don't want to have fought with my mom before I left.

I feel like a complete asshole.

My sister even sent me a strongly-worded message that I read once, and then deleted. I feel bad enough.

I can't help my slight scowl when I approach Bella, but she doesn't look at me accusingly. I suspect that she already knows what's happened. Maybe my mom told her, or even Tori. I wonder if I'll get another telling-off. I deserve it.

But all she does is hug me close, and the stresses of the world seem to fall away.

"What did you do?" she asks eventually, and I just shake my head. _What did I do?_

I don't answer her, because I _can't_. I don't even know what to say. What can I say? What _should_ I say?

She takes hold of my hands and tugs me close. "What happened, Edward?"

"I don't want to talk about it."

"And I don't want my grumpy boyfriend walking in to meet my family, so I guess we're both not going to get what we want."

I swallow audibly. "Bella?"

"So you fought with your mom?" she asks. "People fight with their moms all the time."

"But their moms aren't dying."

"Is that why you fought?" she asks. "Or is it because she wants you to talk about _it_?"

I release her hands. "Jesus, Bella, what the fuck do you people want from me?"

She blinks innocently. "What I want doesn't matter, Edward," she says hauntingly. "This is what you need, and we both know it."

"Bullshit," I snap, and I step back.

Bella glances around.

Oh yeah, it wouldn't do for the First Daughter and her beau to have a lovers' spat in the middle of a crowded airport. Can't have that.

"Edward," she says calmly. "Don't you come and start all of this with me now," she says.

I run a rough hand through my hair.

"So you fought with your mom?" she tries again.

"I fucking fought with my mom, Bella," I say, practically growling. "I mean, she's _dying_. Who's to say how much more time she has with us, and I fought with her. I _yelled_ at her, and I shouted, and I'm just so - " I halt. "I'm so fucking tired, Bella. So, please, _please_ ; I don't want to talk about this anymore."

She takes a breath. "Okay."

"Okay?"

She nods, absently reaching for my left hand. "Come on, we should get going before my brothers think we're going at it on our way back."

My eyes widen.

"That's right," she says. "I'm afraid it's going to be difficult for us to Christen anything with them around."

I follow her in silence, her hand warm in mine. I nod at Harry as we go. The SUV is parked out front and Harry takes my bags, before I climb into the back after Bella. We sit close together, her head coming to rest on my shoulder.

"Have you called home to tell them that you've arrived?"

I give her a pointed look.

"Of course."

I sigh. "Just how often do you talk to my family?" I ask, because it's something I've wondered about.

"Oh, I have your mom on speed dial."

I shake my head. "She probably loves you more than she loves me right now."

"I highly doubt that," she says. "Seriously, Edward, she's probably as shook up about all of this as you are. Maybe you should just call her."

I shake my head. "What am I supposed to say to her, Bella? Seriously? I mean, do I tell her sorry? Do I apologise? Tell her I'm wrong; that I didn't actually _mean_ to fly off on her the way that I did. Do I tell her that I haven't actually been harbouring all these thoughts? That I'm fucking terrified of her dying; that I hate her! I fucking hate her for doing this to me!"

"Edward, don't say that."

"Why not, Bella?" I practically yell. "Why shouldn't I? It's true! It's fucking true." I shake my head. "She's leaving me. She - she made _me_ promise that I would stay. She made me promise that I wouldn't leave, and now look what she's doing!"

Bella frowns. "What are you talking about?"

I drop my gaze. I don't know what exactly my mom told Bella about my running escapades, but that day that I was hospitalised for exhaustion was _quite the day_. My dressing-down was monumental. Esme Masen made me promise not to leave her; not to leave _them_ the way my father did.

Even _then_ , she was worried about how much I was actually Garrett Masen's son.

Maybe there's something clinically wrong with me. Holding it all in is dangerous, but I can't help it. I don't see another way. All of this is already hard enough without my adding all my _feelings_ to it.

"Edward?"

"I can't do this, Bella," I say. "I can't. Just, please don't make me. I don't want to talk about this, and I don't want to think about this. Not anymore." I sigh. "All I want is to be your boyfriend without problems, and meet your family, and make sure that they know that I am desperately in love with you."

"Edward?" she tries again.

" _Please_?"

She leans towards me and kisses me on the mouth. It's supposed to be a quick kiss but it's anything but. Really, I think she would have undressed me in that backseat if Harry hadn't cleared his throat, indicating that we'd arrived at our destination.

We're both blushing when we exit the car, and she slips her arm around my waist as we walk. I try to take it all in, but I can't. I mean, I thought I had an idea of what Camp David was like, but _I had no idea_. People think _camp_ , but it's so much more than that.

Bella leads the way into the main building. It's a house thing, made of some kind of wood, and everything about it is so welcoming; so warm.

We're met by a woman, whom I recognise as Bella's mother, Renee Swan. Despite the both of us knowing who the other is; Bella still insists on introducing us.

"It really is nice to meet you, finally," she says to me, shaking my hand and holding it for a long moment. "I've heard _so much_ about you." The way she says the words makes me believe her. If her intention is to embarrass her daughter; the colour of Bella's face proves that it's working.

Next, I get introduced to Sam and his wife, Emily. Their kids are running around somewhere. Probably with Seth. I meet Jared next, who immediately gives off this happy-go-lucky vibe that I feel both anxious and relaxed in his presence. I make a note to mention it to Bella once the formalities are through.

"Where's Dad?" Bella asks after a moment of comfortable silence.

Her mother and oldest brother exchange a look that both Bella and I don't miss.

"Where is he?" she asks again.

Renee steps forward. "He received a phone call while you were out," she says gently, and Bella's eyes narrow in disbelief. "He really did, and then he - "

"He left, huh?"

Renee drops her gaze. "Bella?"

"No," she snaps. "Just save it. I don't even want to talk about it." She looks at me, and reaches out her hand. "Come on, let me show you around."

I give Renee a sympathetic look, before I allow Bella to lead me away. She drags me through the house, pointing things out to me as we go. She tells stories of her own, and of First Families past. I feel a bit odd being in this place like this, but I'm trying to accept it.

Bella makes it easier.

The Swans hold a barbecue for lunch. It's a truly family affair, and I can't help but forget the rest of the world beyond this moment. Bella keeps a close eye on me as the afternoon progresses, and I'm trying not to be annoyed by it. What does she think is going to happen? Does she think I'm going to snap? Because I'm not. I _won't_.

Not here, at least.

Her brothers are welcoming, even though they aren't afraid to ask me probing questions. I answer as best I can, about my friends, my choice of career and my previous love life. Bella shoots them significant looks whenever they stray too close to topics that aren't supposed to be discussed. As soon as they catch on, the afternoon flies by.

Bella's nephew and nieces take a liking to me early on, and Bella claims that it's because of my hair. It's unruly, and it's bronze colour can be fascinating sometimes. She blushes when she explains, and then _daintily_ saunters away. I just watch her go, smiling secretively.

At around four o'clock, something happens. I notice the moment that Bella disappears, taking her little followers with her. It's amazing to see, really. I've witnessed Bella with her friends, with my friends, and with my family, but it's wonder to behold seeing her with her own. Sam's kids, Brady, and the twins, Rachel and Rebecca, absolutely _love_ her. It's as clear as day. I mean, they literally hold onto her legs as she walks.

Okay, so, Bella disappears, and then things happen. I'm on the back porch talking to Renee when I get accosted by her brothers. It surprises me, and I actually _squeal_ as they lift me off the couch and carry me. Someone reaches into my pocket to relieve me of my phone, and my brain immediately knows what's about to happen.

"Oh, fuck," is all I manage to say, before I'm thrown into the large pool.

Everyone is in heaps of laughter when I resurface, and my initial irritation falls away. A moment later, they all jump in as well, and our impromptu pool party begins. It takes me a moment to start enjoying myself, though that becomes much easier when Bella and her bambinos reemerge from the house, all dressed for a swim.

It's difficult wading through the water with all my clothes on, but I don't think that stripping down to my boxers is appropriate. So, I'm pretty much exhausted when the cold of the water gets to me. I'm pruning, and I'm halfway to shivering.

I climb out of the pool, and Renee hands me a towel.

"You're welcome to head inside and warm up," she tells me. "I suspect you know which room you'll be staying in."

I look at her, my eyes widening slightly. Which room I'll be staying in. Bella showed me only her room. "Umm."

She laughs lightly. "Bella's room, Edward."

I swallow nervously.

She looks deathly amused. "I'm under no disillusions about what you and my daughter get up to, Edward."

 _Ohh, fuck_. I blush a deep red.

She laughs again. "Go on, head inside. You look like you're freezing."

I don't say another word, as I turn and head into the house. I wrap the towel around my thighs, and walk on the edge of the towel, hoping I don't leave a trail of water behind me. I race up the steps, and rush across Bella's carpet to her bathroom. I quickly strip off my wet clothes, before I go back into the bedroom to get my toiletries. I have goosebumps on my skin as I search through my bag.

As soon as I have everything I need, I head back to the bathroom, deposit my items on the counter.

"Edward?" Bella calls out.

I move towards the door. "In here," I return, and I hear her footsteps pad through the room until she joins me in the bathroom. Bella's dressed solely in a towel, and just the thought of what's underneath it makes my body tense. _Oh Bella_. She must know what's going to happen, now that she's here.

The moment she closes the door and locks it, I realise that she does _know_.

"We don't have a lot of time," she says, dropping her towel and moving towards me.

I blink innocently, and force my eyes to stay on her face. I am decidedly _not_ thinking about what her mother may or may not know about what we do. "Why, Miss Swan, what ever are you talking about?"

Bella doesn't humour me for a second. She just grabs for me, and I'm literally at her mercy for the next seven minutes. Seven minutes in fucking heaven, I'm telling you. She tries to be quiet, but it's never really been her strong-suit.

She joins me in the shower after we finish, and I literally can't keep the shit-eating grin off my face.

"You're going to have to school your features when we step out of here," she tells me, and I just grin some more. "Oh, what am I ever going to do with you?"

My gaze softens. "I love you, Isabella."

She looks at me for a long moment, taking me in as I am. "As I you, Edward Masen."

I reach out for her, and she steps towards me. We're both under the stream of the water now. It's amazing, really, what this wonderful human being does for me. I mean, sure, there's sex and that's great, but then there's _this_. This moment right here, when she's entirely mine, and neither of us is ashamed to think it, or believe in it. I can hold her in my arms, and the great big world seems less scary.

Because she's with me.

Bella kisses my chest, before she steps away. "It's time for me to go," she says. "Those little bambinos are probably running around looking for me by now."

I laugh. "If they only knew what dirty things their aunt was just getting up to."

"Are you complaining?"

"Definitely not."

"Don't take too long," she informs me, and then leaves me in the shower, my heart content and my mind and body satisfied.

I head out moments after her, and just catch her as she's finishing getting dressed. I get a quick kiss, and then she's rushing out. I take my time getting dressed, run a hand through my hair, and then head downstairs. Most of the family's congregated in the main living area, and Sam's stoking a fire. It's all so homely, and so normal. It's perfect.

"Edward," Renee says when she spots me. "Come. Sit."

I do.

It's odd. I didn't expect to feel this comfortable with her family. Of course, I'm under no pretense that I would be this calm if Bella's father were here. Maybe he was doing us all a favour by leaving, though I don't think even I can convince Bella to see it that way. She's avoiding dealing with what it means that he left, and I'm willing to let her. She wants to enjoy this time, and that we shall.

Dinner is an informal affair, consisting of leftovers from the barbecue and fresh salads. At some point, the twins convince Bella to watch _Frozen,_ and she pilots an entire mission to get popcorn, blankets, M &Ms and milkshakes that she drags only me into. Sam, Jared and Seth head out back to play pool, and Emily and Renee excuse themselves. To do what, I don't know.

I'm put in charge of the popcorn, and Brady offers to help. It's boys versus girls and, really, we end up making a complete mess in the kitchen. Brady and I finish long before the milkshakes are done, and Bella, the dictator, sends us to get blankets and pillows.

We've just about set up our blanket palace when Rachel and Rebecca come running in, Bella following behind with a tray in her hands. It takes us another few minutes to get settled, and then we start the movie, with three little kids sandwiched between Bella and me. I make it to the part where Anna and Elsa lose their parents, and I can't watch a minute more.

Without a word, I extract myself from the blanket palace, _not_ look at Bella, and head outside. Bella's brothers are nowhere to be found, and I'm a little relieved. There's something that I have to do, and I need silence for it.

I come to a stop at the end of the back porch and look out at the backyard, trying to convince myself that I actually want to do this. Eventually, I just suck it up, take out my phone and pull up my mom's contact. I take a deep breath, before I dial her.

She answers on the third ring. "Oh, Edward."

I close my eyes, hearing the concern and relief in her voice. "Hi, Mom."

"Hi, sweetheart."

I open my eyes and look out at the backyard, using it to keep myself calm. I don't know what I'm supposed to say but, once I open my mouth, it all just comes tumbling out. "I'm so sorry, Mom," I say. "I didn't mean to say all I did this morning. I mean, I did, kind of, but not that way. I definitely shouldn't have said it the way that I did. You didn't deserve to hear it that way. I'm just, uh, I'm not ready to talk about whatever you want to talk about, and I should have said that in a much better way than I did." I take a deep breath. "I know you're worried about me and, believe me, that's the last thing I want. You don't have to worry about me. I'm not fine, but I'm convinced that I will be. I will be, Mom. I promise I will be."

She's quiet for a moment. "Okay," she says gently. "Just know that mommy's here when you're ready to talk."

I blink back tears. She just called herself 'mommy.' It's been years since I, or anyone else, called her that. The day my dad died, we were all forced to grow up.

"Are you enjoying your time with Bella and her family?" she asks.

I take a breath, and then proceed to tell her everything that happened today, save for the shared shower with Bella. My mom definitely _doesn't_ need to know about that. Nobody does. I wish people could understand that.

She laughs when I mention our impromptu swim, and gushes over my experience with Bella's 'bambinos.' We're able to have a conversation - well, I talk and she listens - for almost an hour, before she tells me that I should probably get back to my hosts.

I agree, because I know she's tired. I can hear it in her voice: her words are lagging and she's slurring slightly. _That_ was part of our fight as well. The moment that Carlisle and I mentioned Hospice, she all but lost it. I just don't get it though. _She's_ the one who's accepted what's happening, and yet she's being so fucking proud. Doesn't she understand that we can't do this alone? We need help. We need _other people_ to make the end bearable.

"I'm glad you called, sweetheart," she says.

"Me too," I whisper, and it's the truth. I am glad. "Goodnight, Mom. I love you."

"Goodnight," she returns. "I love you too."

I wait a beat before I hang up and pocket my phone. I wouldn't say that I feel better, _exactly_ , but I'm still glad that I called. I needed to hear her voice, and I think she needed to hear mine. I never want to be in a fight with her ever again. Never. Especially not when any day is potentially the last.

I mean, I'm _sure_ we still have some days to go, but they're running out. Every time I leave home from now on could be the last time I see her, and I went and fucking _fought with her_. I shudder to think what would have happened if something -

No. Just, no. Not thinking that.

"Edward?"

I turn sharply to spot Renee standing at the edge of the back porch, looking at me with curious eyes. "Hi," I say quietly, my hands buried deep in my pockets.

"What are you doing out here?" she asks, tightening her cardigan around her. The temperature's dropped considerably since this afternoon, and it's the first time I actually notice.

"Oh, I just made a call to my mom," I tell her. "Haven't gone back in yet."

Her features soften. "How is she?" she asks, and I stiffen. "I'm sorry," she immediately says. "Bella told me about her, and - I'm truly very sorry, Edward."

I drop my gaze. "She's - she's not doing so well," I say. "Talking is getting harder for her, so I basically just tell her about my life. She wants to hear us talk, even if she can't reply. It's - I - " I stop. I hate this. I just fucking hate all of this.

Renee steps forward. "Did you tell her about what the boys did to you this afternoon?" she asks, deftly changing the subject. Maybe she can tell how much I'm decidedly not coping with the impending loss of my mother. Maybe they all can.

Are they prepared for when I crack?

Am I?

"I did," I say. "She was thoroughly amused and showed me absolutely no sympathy."

She lets out a light laugh as she steps towards me again. We're close enough that we can have a proper conversation now, though I'm still not sure what to say. Renee, thankfully, keeps talking. "You'll have to forgive the boys," she says. "They're terribly excitable, and a little too protective. But you must be able to tell that they like you. You're very likeable, Edward."

I can't help my blush.

"Bella's had a rough time of it when it comes to finding decent boys," she tells me. "Or, they start out decent, and then they..." she trails off.

"Not everyone has the best intentions," I finish for her. "Is that why her father isn't here?"

Renee drops her gaze. "It's not about you, Edward," she begins. "He's a busy man."

I nod, but we both know it's a lie.

"Bella's mad at him, isn't she?"

I don't respond. I don't think that it's my place to divulge Bella's feelings about the fact that her father left Camp David before I even arrived.

Renee laughs. "I admire that," she says.

"What?"

"That you won't discuss it with me."

"It's not for me to discuss," I say. "I suspect that he and Bella will have a conversation about it at some point."

"I don't doubt it," she agrees, sounding amused. "Those two are a complicated pair. I think it's because they really are just so similar. Jared and Seth are like me, free-spirited, happy-go-lucky people, and then Sam and Bella are serious and stubborn just like their father."

I nod, because I can see the truth of it. Bella and her mother aren't alike at all. It's amusing to watch them interact sometimes.

"Who are you more like?" she asks quietly.

I look at her. "I like to think that I'm a momma's boy, but I'm coming to realise that I'm more my father's son than I first thought." I shudder involuntarily, and Renee notices. "I suppose it's in the way that I'll do just about anything for my family." I close my eyes for a moment. "I'm a Hufflepuff, you see."

She laughs out loud, and it's a laugh that sounds a little like Bella's. "Loyal and trustworthy people are difficult to come across these days," she says thoughtfully.

I didn't realise the truth of that until I officially started dating Bella. Just from the mere fact that it made people suddenly wanted to be my friend. It was odd, and deeply _sad_ at the same time. This is our society now. This is what we've come to.

"It's what she was worried about," I say. "There were things that happened, before me. She made me wait. She tested me, whether she knew she was doing it or not."

"She's never thought she was worth it; that it went beyond who her father is."

"She's ridiculous," I say with a shake of my head.

Renee smiles at me. "I'm glad she has you."

"I'm glad I have her too."

We fall into comfortable silence. I can tell that there's something she wants to say to me, so I wait. It's actually quite nice being out here, and the company's not half bad. Though, there _is_ a topic of conversation that I'm hoping she never brings up again.

"She has good friends, right?" Renee eventually asks. "There are good people around her? We didn't make a mistake allowing her to go to school so far from home, did we?"

Okay, I have no idea how to respond to that, so I try for humour. "She has _me,_ " I say.

She lets out a small laugh. "That she does. I know I shouldn't be worried, but I still do."

"You're her mom. That part makes sense."

She raises her eyebrows. "There's a part that doesn't?"

"I wouldn't know; I'm not a mom."

She shakes her head. "I don't know what just happened."

"Me either."

For a moment, we just stare at each other, and then burst out in uncontrollable laughter. I don't know how long we stand there laughing at nothing, and it takes Seth's arrival to get us to control ourselves.

"What's so funny?" he asks, coming to stand next to his mom.

Renee shrugs. "I really have no idea."

Seth shakes his head, and looks at me from around his mom. "Well, Edward, all I can say is 'Welcome to the family.'"

I grin at him. I can't help it.

"The kids are all past out, by the way," Seth tells us. "Sam's taken them to bed and Bella's making hot chocolate. Apparently the movie's made her cold." He rolls his eyes at his sister's antics the only way that an older brother can. "She's a weird kid, you know?"

"We know," Renee and I say together, and then share a small laugh.

I can't help but feel as if I _do_ fit in with this family. After a moment, I excuse myself and head into the house to find Bella. As Seth said, she's in the kitchen, hunched over a mug of hot chocolate and reading something over her phone.

She looks up when she spots me, and smiles. "Hey, you."

I move to stand right next to her and nudge her with my shoulder. "What are you doing?" I ask.

She lets out a laugh, and shows me the screen of her phone, revealing a picture of two of our friends enjoying life poolside. "Look at Angela and Ben," she says. "They're definitely enjoying _their_ Spring Break."

I raise my eyebrows. "And you're not enjoying yours?"

She shoots me a dirty look, basically telling me that I'm a fucking idiot, before she leans towards me and kisses me soundly. "Did you want a cup?"

I shake my head. "I think you've fed me enough, Isabella."

She takes a sip of her hot chocolate. "Did you have a good talk with your mom?"

I blink in surprise. "How did you - "

She just smiles at me.

"Did she message you?"

"No," she says. "I just know you, and I know you called her."

I grin at her.

"Also, I love you, and I kind of want to go to bed now, so do you intend to stay up any longer?"

I let out a light laugh. "Why, Miss Swan, are you trying to take me to bed?"

"Indeed I am."

I kiss her forehead. "Finish up, and let's go to bed."

"I'll just take it with me."

And, with that, we spend the next ten minutes bidding everyone goodnight and forcing away our blushes at her brothers' teasing. Bella just rolls her eyes, grabs hold of my hand and drags me up the stairs.

I don't think that she's intending for us to have sex, because I have to admit that, despite my obvious acceptance, I'm a little terrified of her brothers. It would _never_ happen if her father were around, and I reckon that we've already tested our luck enough.

But Bella locks her door, and that's pretty much that.

Bathroom christened, and now her bedroom. A few times, if I might say so myself. She definitely _has_ missed me, hasn't she?

I want to fall asleep immediately, but Bella makes us get dressed, claiming that Rachel has a little habit of sneaking into her room if she has a nightmare. I'm not really sure what that means for me, but I do as instructed, and then climb back into bed. I pull Bella into my arms and hold her close as I drift to sleep.

When I wake up in the morning, there is a little human between us, and I have tiny fingers dangerously close to my nostrils. I don't recall when this little human joined us, but I'm not complaining. She kind of reminds me of Riley. And she's warm.

Though, I'm definitely aware when she wakes up, because I receive a lovely backhand to the face, which is followed by a timid giggle.

"Want to go watch cartoons?" I whisper, and I get a quick nod in response.

Rachel and I crawl out of bed and head downstairs. It's still relatively early, so nobody else is up and about. We get our cereal, and then settle in the living room for a cartoon marathon of epic proportions. I love the fact that, even though she's part of this new generation; she still watches the classic shows. Though, by the time Rebecca and Emily show their faces, Rachel's got me emotionally invested in the potential love of Adrien and Marinette in _Miraculous: Tales of Ladybug & Cat Noir_.

Like, invested _invested_.

"Ask Bella for it," Rachel tells me, laughing as I ask her _all the questions_.

"I will," I say, because I will. I definitely will.

The morning goes by too quickly. We're all so relaxed, and I love it. I love being here, and just _being_. With Bella. With her family. Just, _this_. I exchange a few texts with my mom, and Tori even deigns to send me a meme. Maybe she's decided not to hate me anymore.

Renee and Emily prepare a delicious roast for lunch, which we devour. Well, Bella makes sure that I get at least some of it before her brothers are set loose on the poor, unsuspecting bird.

We take a walk around the grounds after we've eaten, and these moments right here allow me to forget about the world, even if it's just for a little while. I know that I'll have to go back to the worries of my life when we leave this place. For now, they'll have to wait. I'm under no illusion that they're going anywhere.

Bella leaves the flight to Chicago to the last possible moment, but we _have_ to leave at some point. Renee is the one to tell us that there's a flight plan filed for us, leaving at seven thirty, and we had better be on the plane.

Bella huffs, and then trudges upstairs to _start_ packing.

Renee rolls her eyes, before she sends me up as well, and I feel like a four-year-old being sent to my room, but it's still rather amusing. I freely admit to Bella that I'm kind of in awe of getting to see her act like a kid. She's a little petulant, even stubborn about having to leave, and I love it.

Renee packs us dinner for the flight, even though Bella reminds her that they'll definitely have food for us. Saying goodbye isn't quick, and Harry keeps checking his watch. Bella notices too, and she's forced to pry Rachel's arms off of her.

Only, I'm the six-year-old's next victim. Her arms literally clamp around my legs, and I think she stops blood circulation.

Sam is required to get her to let go, and then we're on our way. And, as we drive away, I can't help the content feeling that settles over me. As terrifying as what's coming is, I get the feeling that I'll get through it. Because there's this girl, and there's this life.

I don't know how, and I don't know why, but I can't help the feeling that it's going to be okay in the end.

But fuck.

Just, oh my God, like, _fuck_.

I was so fucking wrong.

* * *

The period after Spring Break is a strange one. I can't really describe it, but it's the period in which everything kind of falls apart. Maybe I speak too soon; maybe my non-existent luck runs out, but the great big world just goes to shit.

And there's really nothing I can do to stop it.

As the days roll by, I manage to make headway with convincing my mom that it's time for her to accept Carlisle's plans for, uh, 'making her comfortable.' I hate the term, and I'm sure that Carlisle does too.

The good thing is that I didn't fail anything, and I tell my mom immediately. She tells me that she never had any doubts, which is both welcoming and terrifying. I talk to her every day, without fail. She really doesn't say much these days, but that's okay.

It's going to be okay. If I keep saying it, I'm bound to believe it, right? Maybe if I believe it hard enough, I can convince the world of it.

Because when it all starts falling apart, I don't really see it coming. Or I do, and I do that thing where I ignore the signs.

I've just made it back to the room when my mom calls. I flop down onto my bed and bring the phone up to my ear. We haven't had a video call in a while, and I know it's by design. She doesn't want me to see her. It's her pride, I know, but I'll give it to her. I'll give her everything.

It took a while but Carlisle and I did manage to convince her that it was time. _Time_.

They call it the end-of-life preparations. Apparently there's someone you can hire to take care of everything, but we don't want that, do we? I mean, it would make it easier, but I _can't_. _We_ can't. Carlisle told me that he would rather do it himself than have some stranger come in and -

And what?

"How was your day?" she asks, her voice low and slow.

My day was fucking terrible, but I don't think she has to know that. I'm definitely not going to tell her that I barely had any sleep, and I'm pretty sure that I fucked up my presentation this afternoon.

"Tiring," is what I finally decide on. "I had a meeting with our Chapter House director during lunch today. My to-do list is longer than the Constitution, I swear. Even Jasper had a coronary when he saw it."

"What things do you have to do?"

"Oh, it's a lot to do with budgets and stock-taking. I also have to finalise the prospective house list for next year, which is hard to do when people aren't even sure if they're graduating. Also, I don't even know if I'll be President next year."

"When is the election?"

I think maybe it's a good idea to tell my mom that I'm thinking of moving out of the fraternity next year. With it being my final year, I think it makes sense. That way, I can focus more on my schoolwork without all these added responsibilities.

But I don't.

The idea of telling her about the life I'm going to live without her just doesn't feel right. I don't like it, so I won't do it.

"Soon," I tell her. "So far, nobody's mentioned that they'd run against me, but the year's not yet over."

"Do you want to run again?"

"I haven't yet decided." Which is a semblance of the truth. I actually haven't. "How is Bree treating you?" I ask.

She huffs in annoyance, and I can't help my laugh. She _hates_ Bree, but she loves her as well. It's quite funny, really. And sad. Deeply, deeply _sad_. See, Bree is my mom's pain specialist. Esme Masen hates to admit that she's in pain, which is why she hates Bree; but she loves her because of the eventual pain relief.

It's quiet for a long moment, and I wait it out. I think she's waiting for something too, and now is the moment I'm going to give it to her.

"Mom?"

"Yes, sweetheart?"

"Are you scared?"

"Of what, darling?"

I take a deep breath. "I think you know what I'm talking about."

She's silent for a long moment, before she sighs heavily and answers the question I know I shouldn't be answering. "Yes, and no."

This is the type of conversation we can have only over the phone. That much is clear to both of us.

"There are things that terrify me, yes, but death is not one of them," she says slowly. It hurts for her to speak, I know, but these are words that we both know she has to say. "I am a believing and God-fearing woman, Edward, so my passage from this life is not a fear that I have. But, what does worry me is what happens to you all _after_."

I swallow audibly.

"I worry that you won't recover. I worry that what has happened to me will ruin you beyond what - "

\- what losing my dad has already ruined us. Or, _me_.

She says a host of other words, but I'm stuck on the word 'ruin.' _Ruin_. Her death is going to ruin me. Everybody knows it. It's the one thing that we don't talk about. The family secret that isn't actually a secret.

My mom sucks in a deep breath, and then sighs. "I should let you get back to your work," she says. "Say hello to Bella for me."

"As if you don't already talk to her."

She laughs lightly. "Goodnight, sweetheart. I love you."

"Goodnight, Mom," I say quietly. "I love you too."

She hangs up first, and I just stare at my screen for a long moment. I don't know what I feel right now, but I know I don't like it. It's also a feeling that I doubt will go away anytime soon.

When Bella arrives, my mood lifts for only a moment. It's clear that she's not staying for long. It's really more of a visit; a quick drop-by.

There's something in her eyes that I don't recognise, and it makes me uneasy. Truly. She doesn't stay long; she's just as stressed about school as I am. Perhaps more, if the heavy-set frown on her face is anything to go by.

"I should get back to my room," she says, looking at me with the kind of expression that makes me wary as we walk back towards the SUV. She's about to say something that she knows I'm not going to like. "Angela's set up an entire command centre to get us through the fifteen assignments we have due in the next two weeks."

I just nod.

"Also, I have to go to D.C. this weekend."

I blink. "Weren't you just in Boston?" I ask. I don't want her to go, but it would be too direct using those words. I'm just a little confused. We made _plans_. I mean, sure, I initially resisted the idea of going on a group date with our crazy friends, but they managed to convince me. And now...

"Something's come up,"

There's something she's not telling me. I can hear it in her voice, and it's all about the fact that she can barely look at me. "Bella?" I question.

"I just have to go home for a little while, Edward," she says, sounding a little exasperated. It's almost a snap, and I can't help but wonder if she's acting this way because of me. I think back on the past few days, but I can't pinpoint if or when anything changed.

I mean, there _was_ that strange call she received yesterday.

Bella's right hand reaches up to cup my cheek. "I'm sorry," she says; "I know we had plans, but this is important."

I just nod.

"I'll be back before you know it."

There really is something there; something in her voice that I just can't figure out. I look past her at Harry, but he's decidedly _not_ looking at me.

She reaches up to kiss me. It's a quick one, more at the corner of my mouth than anything, and I should have known. I should have acknowledged that niggling feeling in my gut, telling me that I needed to hold onto her and never let go. I should have made her stay, told her that I love her - just, I should have done _so many things_.

Because, the moment she gets on that plane to D.C., nothing is ever the same again.


	14. Chapter 14

**Chapter Fourteen**

Everything changes after Bella gets back to Chicago from D.C.

I don't what it is, or if I've done something wrong, but Bella draws deep into herself. It isn't just me that she pulls away from. Rose notices it, and even Angela mentions that Bella has been distant. It doesn't take a rocket scientist to figure out that something happened when she was in D.C. and, to be perfectly honest, I don't think I'm brave enough to ask her about it.

She'll tell me the truth, which must be something awful; or she'll lie to me. I can't decide which would be worse.

We barely see each other, and then she's telling me that she has to go to D.C. again. Whatever is going on at home must be big, because she looks like she's barely sleeping, and this constant flying is probably exhausting her.

Because of the short notice of both her trips, I haven't been able to get home to see my mom. She isn't bothered by it though, and rather schedules two _Skype_ dates for us. The first one we share with Riley, who my mom tells me is responding well to the clinical trial. It makes him feel terrible, but he's such a strong boy. He's our little fighter. I listen to him go on and on about his favourite _Power Ranger_ , and how much he loves going to the park with his Nana and hates that they haven't been able to do it in such a long time.

For our second _Skype_ date, it's just my mom and me. She spends most of it, if not all, telling me _things_. About life and about love. I don't know what it is, but it's as if she's trying to give me all the advice she possibly can before, _you know_. She's piling it all in, making sure that I know all I need to about being a good friend, brother, boyfriend, and eventual husband and father. It all scares me a little, but I try not to think about the reasons _why_ too much.

She spends about an hour talking to me about Bella. My mom loves my girlfriend, and I think that she can tell that I believe that this girl is the one for me. For forever. Which is why she probably thinks it's important that we talk about this _now_. She reminds me that it won't be easy and that I have to be patient. She definitely reiterates the whole _patience_ thing.

It's as if she knows exactly what I need to hear, given the way Bella's been acting lately.

After I get off my call with my mom, I use my phone to call Bella. She answers on the fifth ring, and she sounds tired, even dejected.

"Hey."

I breathe out. "Hi, you," I say, trying to be enthusiastic enough for the both of us. "How are you?"

"Edward?"

"Yeah?"

There's a long pause. "Look, now really isn't a good time to talk," she tells me. "My dad's - there's a - look, can I call you back later?"

I want to scream no. I want to force her to talk to me, but I can't say the words. Somehow, I just know that demanding answers of her will get me nowhere. I know she knows that I know she's not okay, but she's not acknowledging it. "Okay," I say.

"Thank you," she practically whispers. "And Edward?"

"Hmm?"

"I love you."

I let out a relieved breath. "I love you too."

She hangs up first.

She also doesn't actually get to calling me back.

I call her a few times, but it goes straight to voicemail. I reach a worry level of epic proportions, and I don't even know what to do with myself. I mean, if Rose can't get through to her as well, then there's _something_ wrong. Something terrible.

I mean, I'm worried, of course, but I also kind of miss my girlfriend. I miss the way things were _before_ all this crypticness. I get it. She's the First Daughter, and I'm sure there are all sorts of things that she knows and can't tell me, but this shutout seems _personal_. It _feels_ it.

It's about _me_.

I try to push it to the back of my mind and focus on my assignments. I have a hectic week coming up, and I need to get it done before I suspect I'll be having it out with my girlfriend. We're going to talk when she gets back. Hell, maybe we'll fight. We haven't really done that yet. We've bickered, sure, but we've never _fought_.

Well, there's a first time for everything, isn't there?

I have a shift at the library on Sunday afternoon, and I spend it seeing to Sophomores' queries, studying for Biochemistry and texting my girlfriend who won't respond. Mrs Cope bustles about around me but I opt to stay in one place. I'm exhausted, both physically and mentally.

"Edward?"

I turn to look at Mrs Cope. "Hmm?"

"Do you mind returning these to the shelves?" she asks, pointing to a pile of books on the table. "A group of boys left them behind - how inconsiderate?"

I shrug as I struggle to my feet. I absently grab for my phone and drop it into my pocket. I have half a mind to chuck it across the library, but I probably won't be able to afford a new one and I'm pretty sure that my insurance wouldn't accept my excuse.

I pick up the books, hug them to my chest and make my way to the specified shelves. I take my time shelving the books, trying to waste as much time as possible. Also, if I keep myself sufficiently occupied, I won't think about the fact that my girlfriend is probably avoiding me for whatever reason.

My resolve lasts all of one minute, because then I'm taking out my phone again and dialling her number. Still nothing. What is this? Seriously?

I dial her number again and, surprisingly, I get her voicemail. Before I know what I'm doing, I'm growling, my fingers pressing down hard on my phone's screen.

"The bitch didn't call you back, huh?"

I spin towards the sound of Bella's voice, and my mouth drops open in surprise. "Bella?" I mumble.

She looks sheepish, even a little ashamed. "Hello, you."

A smile automatically takes hostage of my face. I'm just so relieved to see her. "Hey you," I say, and draw her into a tight hug. My body is literally vibrating and, really, I never want to let her go. If I do, we're going to have to talk and I don't think I'm ready for it. I don't want to talk, but I still do.

But I really don't.

So I kiss her instead. It's a sloppy, rushed kiss, that speaks of so much more. That niggling feeling is there. This kiss is just prolonging the inevitable, which is why I push her up against the bookshelf and kiss her senseless. We need this. _I_ need this.

Bella moans into my mouth, giving me access. I lift her up and she wraps her legs around me.

She's the one who pulls back first. "Edward, we _really_ can't do this here," she says, sounding breathless. "There are people everywhere."

"Then let's go somewhere else," I suggest, though it's more of a demand.

She nods immediately, and then we're going. I barely have time to excuse myself to Mrs Cope before Bella and I are rushing out of the library, hand in hand. We go to the OB, happily bypassing Harry and Billy. Bella sounds rebellious, and I'm definitely not complaining right now. This is avoidance at its finest.

I drive. Fucking fast.

I'm sure that if Harry weren't already bald; he would have pulled out his own hair.

We go to my room, mainly because it's more likely that the boys will be out than Angela is. They tend to spend Sunday afternoons playing touch football at the field. So Bella and I barely see anyone as we make our way upstairs.

As soon as the door closes, I've got her pinned against it, exactly where I want her. It's quick and it's dirty, and we're both panting by the end of it.

"We should probably talk," Bella says once she's caught her breath.

I just nod, before I disentangle myself from her. It's suddenly cold without her warmth but I still step back. I turn away from her and straighten myself out. We _should_ probably talk, even though there's a part of me that desperately doesn't want to.

I move to sit on the end of my bed and wait.

Bella begins to pace in front of me.

"Bella?" I ask.

She stops suddenly and looks at me. "I'm sorry," she says. "I should have called, and I definitely shouldn't have been so rude to you on the phone."

"What's going on?"

She sighs heavily, and then comes to sit beside me. She rests her head on my shoulder and takes a deep breath. "Something is happening, Edward," she whispers. "There have been these - "

"What?"

She swallows audibly. "I wish - I just - I want it all to stop."

I don't know what she's trying to tell me. I'm pretty smart, so I should be able to figure it out, but I can't. This _something_ is really getting to her, but I can't help if she doesn't talk to me about it. "What can I do?" I ask.

"I want nothing more than to stay here, just hidden from the entire world, just with you," she says breathily. "Do we have to go outside?"

"To eat, probably."

She chuckles softly. "I'm sorry," she says again. "I'm just - there are things that I have to deal with; that I have to come to terms with."

I still don't know what she's trying to tell me.

Bella kisses my cheek. "Edward, I love you."

"I love you too," I say automatically.

Her lips move from my cheek to the corner of my mouth, until she finds my lips again. I can feel her hesitancy; her worry. For a moment, I want to pull back and talk about this some more, but then she nibbles at my bottom lip, and I'm a goner.

Maybe she means to distract me; maybe she doesn't.

Regardless, I still let her.

* * *

The week goes by quickly and slowly at the same time. Bella is distant, but still so clingy. It's strange. It's worrying. And I'm not the only one who's noticed. I get a text from Rose late on Thursday night asking me about it but I probably know as much as she does.

All I know is that, when the week is up, Bella's off to D.C. again.

So, this time, I too go home. I just have this feeling. I'm needed at home. I'm _needed_. I just know it.

I arrive in Seattle to learn that my mom is in the hospital, though she desperately doesn't want to be. She wants to be at home and Carlisle tells me that he's organising for it to happen. She should be given the dignity of being able to die in her own home. He says it carefully, but his voice catches and his eyes brim with tears. I know I'll fucking cry if I see him crying, so I look away.

Jesus Christ, Esme Masen is going to fucking ruin us all.

My mom picks a bed out of a catalogue, claiming that it looks like the kind of bed she wouldn't mind dying in. She says it with a slight laugh, to which I don't respond. Peter and I go to pick it up on Saturday afternoon, and he uses the opportunity to reiterate to me that I can relax now. As we're walking back to his truck, he tells me that I can focus on school, and that I don't need to worry about the bills anymore.

"Why?" I ask, even though I sort of know _why_.

He just gives me a pointed look, stopping walking now that I have.

There's going to be a payout. Of course there is. My mom's life insurance.

I blink. How dare he even bring it up? I'm not exactly in a good head space anyway, so I fucking lose it. "She isn't dead yet, Peter!" I snap. "I'm sorry if that's fucking up all your plans!"

He glares at me. "Don't you dare!" he hisses. "Don't you dare act like I don't know what's going on here? Because I fucking know, Edward!" He's screaming at me, and it's almost as if he's been _waiting_ to be able to say all he wants to. "I see it every day, you know? The struggle; her fucking pain, and forgive me if I want it to be over for her. You're acting like her dying is a insult to you, like the world is so against you, but you know nothing!

"I've been _here_. I've _seen_ it all! Feeding her, cleaning her, and watching her waste away as that fucking disease slowly kills her! Where have you been, huh? Where the fuck have you been? I've been here, every fucking day, with her, and with Riley; just holding this fucking family together. So don't you come here acting all high and mighty, as if I don't care. Don't you see? I care too fucking much." He looks livid, and I just stare back at him.

There's nothing to say. What can I say? I mean, I _can_ throw it all back in his face, but I won't. I shouldn't. So, I just grab the keys from him, and head towards the truck. If he wants to pile his pain on me, then he should be able to. I'll bear the weight of his pain if I have to.

If he's as heartbroken as I am, then I'll be this person for him.

He has Charlotte and Riley to worry about. He's got to hold it together for them, so he can afford to break down in front of me.

I unlock the truck, climb into the driver's seat and wait. It takes him a moment to join me, and then I pull out in silence. The drive home is tense, and I can see Peter nervously nibbling on his bottom lip as our _conversation_ probably replays in his mind. I don't say anything. I've accepted it, but I won't say that it's okay. Because the words _hurt_. As if I don't beat myself up enough about not being here.

When we get home and I pull into the driveway; neither of us moves for a solid minute. It's when I remove the keys from the ignition that he finally speaks, but I suddenly don't want to hear any of it.

"Edward - "

"Forget it, Peter," I say, cutting him off. "Just help me get this fucking bed in the house so our mom can die comfortably."

We don't exchange any more words as we do just that. We set up the bed in the drawing room, shifting unnecessary furniture out of the way, or removing items entirely. I want my mom to have a view of the backyard, but Peter thinks it's best if we give her a _side_ view instead - something about the glaring sun. Whatever. I don't argue.

Once it's all set up, I retreat to my bedroom and stay there. I call Bella, but she doesn't answer. She sends a text a few minutes later, letting me know that she was in a meeting - probably to do with the campaign - and would call me later.

 _Later_.

Fuck her later. Seriously. It doesn't even fucking arrive. All I get is a text message that start with 'Sorry,' so I don't even bother to read it. It's just an excuse of some sort, and I don't have the patience to deal with it _today_.

I don't think that she's necessarily ignoring _me_ , because it's not just _me_. It's just that whatever's bothering her is taking over everything, and I don't know what to do to help her or what to say to figure it out. I just don't understand, and she's really not helping.

Eventually, Tori comes to call me for dinner. I can't tell if she's also irritated with me or not, and I'm not going to ask. If my brother thinks that I'm being saved from watching our mom die; does that mean that my sister thinks it as well? Does she resent me for it?

Would I, if I were her?

Dinner is quiet, even a little tense, but we get through it. Somehow. I've never actually thought of Seattle, and said 'I want to go home.' Seattle's always been home, with Chicago just being a place that I go. And now it feels as if it's the other way around.

Is that what Peter's so mad about? The fact that I actually get to leave, and he doesn't? I get to escape, and he has to be here? Does he resent me for doing exactly what he told me to do? That would be terribly unfair. But, I suppose, nobody's really thinking rationally right now.

After dinner, Charlotte and I do the dishes, and then I go to the hospital. Alone.

Carlisle is with my mom when I arrive. They're holding hands, and he's whispering something to her; but both of those things stop when he spots me. He stands up immediately, and takes a step towards me.

"Everything okay?" he asks.

I don't answer his question. "We set up the bed," I tell them both, as I walk further into the room. "You'll be able to come home tomorrow."

My mom lets out a relieved breath that sounds more painful than anything. She glances at Carlisle and they exchange a significant look. I don't know what it is, but maybe they can both tell that I need _something_. I mean, I must have come here for a reason, right? Even though I don't know what that is then.

Carlisle bids my mom goodnight, bending to kiss her forehead, and then gestures for me to walk him out. His voice is low, even gentle, as he speaks. "I know this is the last thing that you want to hear, Edward, but I suspect that we don't have long to go now," he says slowly, placing a gentle hand on my shoulder.

I blink back my tears.

"She's held on for so long. She's fought so hard, and now she's tired, Edward. She's tired, and she deserves a good rest."

I wipe at my eyes.

"So I think it's time that you say your peace," he says solemnly. "Say the words that we both know she needs to hear. _Please_."

Suddenly, I realise that _this_ is why I came here. To say the words that _she_ needs to hear.

All I do is nod.

It seems to be enough for Carlisle, because he gently squeezes my upper arm, bids me goodnight, and then walks away. I watch him go until he's disappeared, and then I head back into my mom's room. Her eyes are closed, but I can tell that she's awake. Her breathing is too ragged for sleep.

I can _hear_ her breathing. How fucked up is that?

I move to sit down in the chair Carlisle just vacated, and my movements make her open her eyes; her perfect, perfect eyes.

"Hello, sweetheart," she says.

I reach for her closest hand. "Hi, Mom."

She blinks, a small frown on her face. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing."

"Liar."

I smile slightly, squeezing her hand.

"What's wrong, sweetheart?"

I shrug. "Just, things," I tell her. "I can handle it though." I cringe as I say the words, knowing that Bella would probably roll her eyes at them.

My mom looks like she wants to call 'bullshit,' but she doesn't. "So, my bed, huh?"

I grin at her. "It's quite the bed, Mom. It's got all these fancy gadgets and everything - you're going to love it."

Okay. This is probably the worst conversation I have ever had with my mother. It's horrible, and I hate it. I mean, we're literally discussing the bed she's probably going to die in as if this is what normal people do. Only, it's not.

"How is everyone at home?" she asks after a while.

I blink. "Charlotte and Tori made spaghetti," I tell her. I can't remember the last time she had a proper meal and was able to keep it down. Or even enjoy it.

She gives me a knowing look, realising that I'm definitely avoiding something. What that is, I still don't know; which is why she just starts to speak. Her voice is quiet and it comes out slowly, as she forces it out. She tells me things.

The kind of things that come before someone's end-of-life.

I listen as intently as I can, because there is nothing more important than my mother right now. _Nothing_.

"I am so proud of this person you've become," she says, her eyes on me. "I am _so_ proud. Because you're strong, and good and pure, and that heart of yours will always put people first." She takes in a painful breath. "I want you to know that you are loved, Edward."

It's never been a doubt in my mind.

"I love you, and I'm sorry that I'm going to be another loss to you. Don't be angry, okay? _Please_. This is life, and sometimes people just die." She blinks slowly."Sometimes they just die."

It's a hard lesson to learn, given that my father didn't _just die_.

"Come here," she says after a moment, gently patting the bed beside her. "Come lie with me for a while."

I hesitate for only a moment, before I stand up. It takes us a moment to figure out where all the tubes are going to go, as I settle in beside her. I'm her son, but I'm the one who wraps my arms around her, and we both shift until we're comfortable. For a while, neither of us says anything.

Of course though, she's the one to break the silence, because I have no fucking clue what to say. "I hope you know I don't want to go, but it isn't my choice at this point." Her voice cracks, and I squeeze her tighter, giving her the strength to carry on speaking. "I'm sick, and I'm not going to get better. It's a truth we've had to face for a while now, and I need to know that you're prepared for it."

"Mom, no." I take a breath, forcing my tears away.

"Edward, please."

I shake my head. "What am I supposed to do without you?"

"I'm pretty sure that I've taught you all that I can, and your life experiences have taught you everything else."

I press my lips together, fighting off my spiralling emotions. Fuck. I don't want to do this right now.

"I'm going to miss you," she says, touching my nose with the tip of her forefinger.

"Me too," I whisper, because my voice isn't really working.

"Remember that I will always love you, wherever I am, and wherever you are, Edward. Always."

"I love you too, Mommy." I sound so much like a child that it is heartbreaking. And pathetic. I'm a grown man, for fuck's sake.

She allows us to exist in silence for only a few seconds before she says the words that take us down the road from which we will never be able to return. "We - we have to talk about this, sweetheart."

I don't want to. This is the last think I want to do. "I know." I swallow audibly. "I know, Mom."

"I'm dying."

I don't say anything. What am I supposed to say to that anyway?

"Do you understand that I'm dying?" she tries again. "It's really only a matter of time now. Sometimes I can't even breathe, Edward. Sometimes I don't want to wake up. And then you all come... And I…" her voice trails off, the emotion getting the better of her. She swallows, painfully. "You are going to be fine, right?" She doesn't sound as sure anymore, and I realise that this assurance is something that she needs from me. But am I willing to give it? Do I have it in me to lie to her? "I mean, not just tomorrow, or the day after I'm gone? But two years from now, five years, ten years from now?"

I open my mouth, but nothing comes out.

Maybe she hears it, maybe she feels it; because she doesn't comment on my lack of response.

"You make sure to take care of yourself, okay?" she says after a while. "All I want is a hundred years more, just to be your mom; just to watch you grow to be the great man you are becoming. I want to see you graduate; realise your dreams of being a doctor. I just - I want so much more time with you all." She coughs, and I can hear the tears in her voice.

I don't dare look though. I _can't_.

"I know it's selfish what I'm asking," she says; "but all I want, and all I need is to know you're going to be okay once I'm gone. I can't leave without knowing that."

No no no no!

"Please."

I shake my head. "Don't leave," I whisper. "Stay."

"I _can't_ ," she says, barely speaking now.

And that's it, isn't it? This was never a choice that she made. She said it herself: given the choice, she would stay.

"Edward?" She swallows hard, her breathing jagged. She's fully crying now, and I know what she's asking. She's tired, so, so tired, and she's asking me if it is okay to go. She needs my permission.

I can't keep my tears at bay anymore.

I close my eyes, willing myself to say the words I never dreamed I would ever say. I can't even breathe as I force them out. "We're going to be fine," I just about manage. "You're our mom. Of course we'll be fine."

She falls silent, and I practically feel the tension leave her body.

This is my peace. This is the last thing I can give her: _her own peace_. So I just hold her tighter, absently rocking us both as I lull her to sleep with the words that she so desperately wants to hear.

"You can go, Mom," I whisper, crying fully. I'm sobbing. "Mommy, you can go. It's fine. We're going to be fine, okay? You can let go now. I know it's hard. I know you don't want to. But you can. It's enough now. You can let go. You can stop fighting. We'll be fine, I promise. I love you. We'll be fine. We love you."

* * *

I land in Chicago late on Sunday night. Jasper is the one who picks me up, and he asks after my family. His family; _our_ family. I tell him unnecessary things first, before I inform him that he should definitely place a call to my mom some time this week. As much as I hated Carlisle telling me to say my peace; I'm somewhat glad that he did.

I don't think I'm anywhere near accepting what's about to happen, but I don't feel this overwhelming anxiety squeezing my heart every time I breathe. I'm not _anxious_ that I'll miss her, and I'm also not _anxious_ that I won't get to say goodbye.

Because I did.

And then I called Bella straight after, and told her that we needed to talk, and she agrees. Unlike me, though, she's arriving on Monday evening, which gives me roughly a day to sort out my own shit. The school year is starting to wind down, which really means that all our professors and lecturers are trying to pile in everything they can now that we've covered a sufficient amount of the work.

I hate them all. I really do.

I told Bella that I want things to go back to the way that they were; before all the cryptic _ness_ , and before all the _leaving_. She sounded sad - almost resigned - about something and, when I asked her about it; she told me she would tell me when she saw me. On Monday _evening_.

Which is why I'm wholly surprised when Isabella Swan knocks on my bedroom door at five o'clock on Monday morning. She never knocks, but I tell myself that she was probably thinking that I was asleep.

I'm not. I've been up for a while, unable to sleep. I've been distracting myself with cell membrane biology.

I stand up as soon as I spot her, and move to close the distance between us but the first sign that something is deeply, deeply wrong is the fact that she puts a hand out to stop my approach. I raise my eyebrows in response, but she just shakes her head.

"There's something I have to tell you," she says, and her tone is so heartbreaking. What on earth happened?

"Bella," I whisper. "You know you can tell me anything." And I mean it. Despite what she thinks, I _can_ handle it. All of it. I was already handling _it_ , long before she stumbled into my life and set my world on fire. I step towards her, and she takes a step back.

"Edward," she practically cries. Her eyes meet mine for the first time, and I'm lost. Fucking hell, what's happened? How do I make it better?

We just stare at each other and, for a fleeting moment, I think that this is it for us. She's come here for a reason that I'm not going to like. No. That can't be. We're fine. Okay, we're _not_ fine, but there's no way that this could be it. There's no way.

"I wasn't going to come back," she says, and I frown. "But, but I had to see you. I had to tell you - " her voice catches, and her hand flies to her mouth. Her eyes widen, and then she bolts out of my room and to the bathroom. I follow, but she slams the door behind her, and I hear her wretch. It sounds painful, and all I want to do is take her in my arms, maybe hold her hair back for her. I just want to make it better.

I don't even realise I have tears in my eyes until I hear her flush. I step away from the door and wipe at them, steadfastly ignoring the fact that Harry and Billy _and_ Marcus are standing in the corridor with me, each of them looking concerned. Jesus. What the fuck are they all doing in here?

I hear her gargle, which prompts me to move towards the door again. "Bella," I whisper. "Are you okay?"

She shuffles towards the door. "I just need a minute," she says, her voice scratchy. "Can you just go back to your room, and I'll be there shortly?"

I don't want to, but I agree anyway. If this is what she needs, then I'm going to give it to her. I want to push. I want to know what's wrong. She has to tell me. Today. I won't let her leave until she does.

Reluctantly, I turn and make my way back to my bedroom. Something about it feels different, as if it knows it's about to bear witness to something monumental. When my door opens, it takes me little more than a second to realise that I'm right.

Bella's got her hair tied up when she comes back in. Her face is splotchy and her eyes are red. It's clear that she's been crying and, for the life of me, I can't figure out why.

"Bella," I say, because I can't think of anything else. "Bella, please tell me what's wrong?"

She takes a moment, before she lifts her head and looks me in the eye. She's more composed now, and, from this one look, I just _know_. I don't know how I know, but I just do. Everything that's been happening; her silence, her distance... it's all been leading up to this, and I just _know_.

"Bella, no," I say.

"Edward." The word comes out flat and painful. She visibly steels herself for what comes next. "We can't do this anymore."

"Bullshit," I snap.

She flinches, but I don't fucking care. "Edward," she starts again. "I told you that I was going to protect you. I _told_ you that I was bad for you. Edward, I wouldn't be doing this if it weren't - "

I cut her off. "Stop it. Just fucking stop! _Jesus_. Just tell me what you really want to tell me, Bella. I'm not some fragile thing that you have to protect. I can take care of myself!"

"Not against this kind of threat, you can't," she shouts back, clearly snapping.

I step back. What? What is she even talking about?

"Jesus Christ, Edward, why are you being so difficult about this? Why are you so hell spent on making this so damn hard?"

"Because I love you!" I scream back at her. "I fucking love you, Bella, and I don't want to be without you! Why can't you just get it into your thick skull that this is what I want. _You_ are what I want."

Her eyes meet mine again and, this time, when she speaks, she hurts us both. "Well, it's not what I want."

I stop cold. Wait.

"You just don't belong in my world, Edward."

This isn't happening. I can't - it's not - what? "Bella?" I whisper. I don't understand. Where is any of this even coming from?

"I'm sorry," she says, but she's not looking at me again. She probably won't ever look at me again. "This is just not what I want anymore."

For a second, I consider not believing her, so I ask a question that I know I shouldn't. "You don't want _me_ anymore?" My voice is so soft, I'm surprised that she hears me.

She takes her time with her response, and I don't know whether to laugh or cry. "No."

I blink. "Oh." It's the moment I break. I don't know what parts of me break, but it feels like every part. It isn't even just limited to my heart. It's my entire body; like the strings holding me together have just snapped.

All I can really do is stare at her. She wouldn't have said it if she didn't mean it. I mean, she couldn't, right? She loves me. I'm sure of it. She _told_ me. But she's also just told me that she doesn't want me. She doesn't want me. I can't breathe. What is happening? Why is any of this happening?

I don't even know what I'm supposed to believe.

She steps back, her gaze focused on my shoes. She's going to leave; she's going to walk away, and I'm too stunned to say anything to stop her. She doesn't want me. _She doesn't want me_.

"I'm sorry," she says, and I don't know why I can tell that she means it. She _is_ sorry, but that doesn't make me feel any better. In fact, I'm not sure I'm feeling anything right now. I hurt, but I'm numb at the same time.

Bella doesn't want me.

"Please," she says. "Take care of yourself, Edward. Please be safe."

She doesn't want me.

I just watch as she turns around, and walks away. She's barely out of sight when she stumbles, her one hand reaching for my door frame; the other flying to her mouth. I think I hear a sob, and I vaguely think that I hope she didn't hurt herself.

She turns to look at me one more time, and her eyes are shining with her unshed tears. "I am so, so sorry," she chokes out.

And then she's gone.

* * *

Jasper is the one who finds me. I haven't moved from the position in which Bella left me, save for sinking to the floor, leaning my back against my desk and clutching my knees tightly to my chest. From my stance, Jasper rushes to my side and drops to his knees.

"Masen," he says. "Is it...?"

I make a pained sound, and it's enough to let him know that, no, my mother isn't yet dead. _I am_.

His face registers his relief, before he's looking concerned again. "Edward," he says. "If not your mother... Is - is it Riley?"

 _Fuck_. I groan, and somehow manage to lift my head. "It's Bella," I manage to say, but my voice doesn't even sound like it's my own. Is that what I sound like? I sound broken, defeated. _Stunned_.

He frowns. "What's wrong with Bella?" he asks.

Doesn't he see? Can't he tell? There's nothing wrong with _Bella_. There's something wrong with _me_!

"Edward?"

"She's gone," I croak.

"What do you mean she's gone?"

My eyes flick towards his, and I think he sees all he needs to in them, because his shoulders sag.

"Fucking hell," he hisses, and I'm inclined to agree with him. I _feel_ like I'm in fucking hell. Or I _am_ fucking hell. When I woke up this morning, this was the last thing I expected, and I don't think that I've truly accepted what's just happened.

Bella's gone. My girlfriend. The girl I love. She's gone, and I don't even know why.

She doesn't want me anymore.

"What happened?" Jasper asks, settling properly down on the floor and crossing his legs in front of me. "What did she say? What _exactly_ did she say?"

I'm not sure I _can_ tell him, but I try anyway. I force the words out, and they sound like someone else is speaking. "I thought - I thought Bella was the one. Surely, if she thought the same about me, then she wouldn't have done this. Right? She never would have hurt me this way."

Jasper doesn't answer me. "Something must have happened," he eventually says. "It's so out of the blue."

I look at him. "Is it?"

Jasper presses his lips together, because he knows I'm right. I'm not the only one who noticed that something was amiss when it came to my girlfriend, who also happens to be the First Daughter. Whatever is going on; whatever she's refusing to tell me; it's clearly more important than I am.

That part at least makes sense to me. It's no secret how much she takes this whole Politics thing seriously. It's the reason she won't even call her father and tell him how miserable she sometimes is about his campaign or the role she's supposed to play. It's too important. His job; his image; _his_ happiness.

And now she's just gone.

Jasper manages to coax me into getting up off the floor. I don't go far though. I flop down on my bed, and I try not to cry. I don't even know if I _want_ to cry. What would I even be crying for? For whom?

He forces me to eat, but I can barely stomach anything. He guilts me into studying, which is highly effective. Bella might have shattered my heart, but she's not going to take my career. Even my mom's impending death hasn't derailed the plans I've set out for myself. The second Jasper reminds me of that, I'm able to focus on something other than the fact that Bella just left me, and I still don't even truly know why.

Jasper's at least right that there's some _reason_ , but I'm too heart sore to take a step back and try to figure it out. She could have just _told_ me. Didn't she trust me? Didn't she think that I deserved to know?

Somehow, by some miracle, I get through my Monday classes, but I cancel all my tutoring. I don't have it in me to be in people's presence, and offer them the opportunity to ask if I'm okay. Because I'm not. I'm fucking _not_ okay.

On Monday night, I try to call Bella. I don't know what I'm thinking, but it's probably the vodka in my system. Fuck. Where'd the vodka come from? Where's Jasper?

In the end, it doesn't matter. She doesn't answer. In fact, it doesn't even ring.

Tuesday is much the same. I go to classes and then I lock myself away from the world. I don't want to see people, even though word hasn't seemed to have broken about the end of our relationship. Fuck, I'm not looking forward to the moment that it does. There will be questions, and I won't have any answers.

Wednesday's no better, though I don't get plastered drunk in the evening.

Thursday's when things really get fucking confusing. Tanner calls me in a panic about his Dynamics' test, and I'm forced to meet him. I'm aware that I look - and probably smell - like shit, but the boy wisely doesn't comment. I _feel_ like shit.

When I get back to my room, Rose is sitting on the edge of my bed. She's holding a picture frame in her hands, and I know it's the one of me and my mom. I keep it on my nightstand as a daily reminder of the only woman who loves me unconditionally. I realise, belatedly, that I haven't even told my mom about Bella. Maybe I have to believe it first, before I can talk about it. Somehow, I'm expected to accept it, and I don't know if it's possible. I'm still in disbelief, really.

I remember Jasper once telling me that a breakup is kind of like a death, in that you go through the five stages of grief. I can't remember them off-hand, but I suspect I'm feeling denial and, uh, bargaining. It's the reason I tried calling her again, isn't it? To beg, or some shit like that.

Rose looks up when I drop my bag to the floor. I want to ask her what she's doing here, but I don't think I actually want to know. I'm pretty sure that I already know.

She sets the picture frame down, and then she stands up. "Edward," she says calmly, and I'm suddenly terrified. She's too fucking calm for this to be just an inquiry into the breakup. She doesn't sound as if she's here as _my_ friend. "What did you do to Bella?"

I gape at her. Wait. What? "Excuse me?" I choke out, because what the actual fuck. What did _I_ do to Bella? Is she fucking kidding me right now?

"What did you do to Bella?" she asks again.

"What do you mean what did _I_ do?"

"She's gone, Edward."

I blink in surprise. "What do you mean she's gone?"

"I mean she's _gone_ ," she says. "All her stuff is gone. Angela says that she hasn't seen her since yesterday morning. Bella's gone, and tell me what the fuck you did to her."

I can't compute. "She's - she's gone?"

Rose looks impatient as she steps towards me. "What the fuck did you do, Masen?"

"Nothing," I say, and I mean it. "She's the one who came here early Monday morning to end things with _me_."

"What?"

I hate saying it out loud. "She broke up with me on Monday, Rose. I haven't seen or heard from her since then." Not for a lack of trying, mind you.

"Why?"

"Why what?"

"Why did she end it?"

"I don't fucking know."

"You must have some idea."

My facial features harden. "I don't."

She looks about as confused as I still feel about all of this. "I don't understand."

"I don't understand either."

"Shut up, Edward," she snaps, putting her hand out. She looks like she's thinking hard about something. "I just, I don't understand," she says after a moment. "She was just - "

"She was just what?"

"She was convinced, Edward, that you were _it_ ," she says. "Just last week, before her trip to D.C., she was saying that..." she trails off. "Before her last trip to D.C."

I nod.

"Something happened."

I nod again.

Rose starts to pace. "She _has_ been acting weird lately, hasn't she?" Her gaze meets mine. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"Tell you what?"

"That it was over?"

"Because I don't want it to be," I practically hiss. "The second I acknowledge it, it's true, and that's the last thing I want."

"So what are you doing about it?" she counters.

"What am I supposed to do?"

" _Something_." She comes to stand right in front of me. "It's Thursday, Edward. What the fuck have you been doing this whole week?"

I don't have an answer for her, because this last week is a little more than a blur. It's probably because of all the alcohol, but still. Really, how much time have I had to try to figure out what's running through my girlfriend's mind. Oh, _ex_ -girlfriend.

"Edward!" Her voice is rising. "You let her just leave? She's gone! Do you know what that means? She's gone, Edward!"

"It's not because of me," I argue. "Jesus, Rose."

"No!" she counters. " _You_ did this."

"Me?"

"You!"

I don't know what it is, but something snaps in me. "Of course it is," I say, my voice layered with sarcasm. "What isn't my fucking fault, right?" I turn away from her. "My dad, my mom, Riley, Bella, everything! I'm the reason my family is dying. I'm the fucking reason why everything shitty happens in my life, right?"

Rose looks shell-shocked.

"I don't need this from you!" I shout. "I've got enough shit to deal with, without you adding Bella to it! If she wants to be all cryptic about whatever is happening with her, then I don't have the fucking time to get it out of her. Because that's the last thing I have! Don't you see? I'm running out of _time_!"

Rose opens her mouth to respond, but the sound of my bedroom door opening stops her.

"Jesus," Jasper says, as he steps into the room. "The whole fucking house can hear you two."

Rose turns her ire on Jasper. "Did you know?"

Before he can even think of a response, my phone rings. Tori's ringtone startles us all, and I'm relieved for just a moment before my panic sets in. I glance at the time on my computer screen, and I swallow thickly. It's _late_. Tori only calls this late at night when something's wrong.

Jasper knows this too, which is why he's staring at my phone on my desk with wide, terrified eyes. Rose just looks confused, but she doesn't say anything. Maybe she can feel it. This is the phone call that's going to change _everything_.

I'm hesitant as I reach for my phone. If I don't answer soon, it's going to go to voicemail, and I don't want to make Tori tell me the kind of news she has to in a message. I'm looking at Jasper when I put the phone to my ear.

"Hello," I answer cautiously.

"Edward." One word, and I can hear _everything_ behind it. I can hear the sobs, the emotion, and the pain. One word, and my heart is broken. Again.

It's utterly shattered.

She doesn't have to say anything more after that. I already know. I _know_.

The phone drops from my hand, and both Rose and Jasper stare at me with wide eyes. They know too. It's better that they know, so I don't have to say it out loud either. How do I even say it when I can't even bring myself to _think_ it?

"Lamb Chop?" Jasper whispers.

I shake my head. It's all I can think to do.

He takes a step towards me, his face contorting with whatever he's feeling.

It's the last thing I see before I hit the deck.


	15. Chapter 15

**Chapter Fifteen**

Carlisle picks me up from the airport late Saturday morning. I can't even remember the last twenty-four hours, but I'm expected to act a certain way now that I'm home, and that's what I'm going to do. I don't know how to do anything else anyway.

The moment Carlisle sees me, he draws me into a hug. It's the fatherly kind that almost gives me permission to break down.

But I don't.

I _won't_.

I just squeeze him once, and then let go. After passing out after Tori's call, I've been able to keep it together. With Jasper's help, of course. He and Rose are the only reason that I even managed to get myself to the airport. I feel a little as if I've shut down the part of me that should be _feeling_.

I spent all of Friday - was that only yesterday - dealing with my affairs and talking to my lecturers. Classes are supposed to be winding down, though they're really getting worse. Our professors are just trying to jam everything into the last few weeks. It's all so much, and I -

I take a breath.

 _Just breathe, Edward_. I can almost imagine my mom saying the words.

They've given me the option to defer my Spring exams, but I haven't yet decided. I'm trying to think about what would be best for my family at this point and fuck if I know what that is. They know better than I do, don't they?

Carlisle takes my tog bag from me, and then leads the way out of the airport. I don't really know what I feel being back in Seattle. If anything, the city doesn't feel _different_. I thought it would, seeing as my mom is gone. But nothing. The world is still going on as normal. It hasn't stopped. I doubt it's even hesitated.

It makes me irrationally angry for a moment, before I let out a tired breath. Hating the world, and being angry is just so fucking exhausting. And I'm exhausted.

When we get to Carlisle's car - which, one should know, is parked so close to the terminal that it's unreal - I let him handle putting my bag away while I climb into the passenger's seat and try my best not to let the situation get to me. Seattle is different to Chicago, in that I don't think I'll be able to hide.

I haven't cried yet, and I'm afraid that Carlisle is going to ask me if I have. I doubt I'll be able to lie to him. There's just something about Carlisle Cullen that you can't lie to. For the first time, I realise that I don't know all that much about him. I mean, sure, he's a doctor, and he's loving and caring, but I don't know _him_. I've never asked.

I mean, does he have children? Has he ever been marriedbefore? What made him decide to study medicine? Why oncology?

They're all questions that I can't ask him right now, even as he pulls out of the parking spot and gets us on our way, but I know I will one day. Because he's not going anywhere.

Wait.

Is he?

"Carlisle?" I croak suddenly, and the car swerves slightly. "Sorry," I mumble.

"That's okay," he says gently. "Just surprised me. What is it?"

I open my mouth, but I don't even know what to say. How do I ask him if he'll stay? Am I even allowed to? I suddenly feel as if I'm four years old.

"Edward?" he prompts.

I take a deep breath. "Were you with her?"

His grip on the steering wheel tightens, and I watch as his knuckles turn white. "I was selfish," he admits, and I frown. "I wanted to be the last person she saw. I wanted - " he stops, and I have to look away when he wipes at a stray tear. His tears will undoubtedly lead to mine, and I'm not ready.

It's a mission to get away from the airport, but I feel less tense the further we get from the mode of transport that may or may not take me back to Chicago after I've buried my mom.

 _Jesus Christ_.

It's been a lengthy silence by the time Carlisle speaks again. "We caught a nap, Edward," he says. "Thursday afternoon, I came over, took her in my arms, and we fell asleep."

I hear him swallow, which makes me glance at the radio. It's not on.

"Only, she didn't wake up," he finishes.

"So, it was peaceful?" I force out.

"She was in no pain, Edward."

"Because of Bree?"

He nods, but I'm sure there's more. I think we'll have a conversation about all of this at some point, but even I can tell that today isn't the day. It's too soon to hear the details of my mom's death.

"How are they?" I ask instead, as if it's an easier question to answer.

"We've been preparing for this for quite some time," he begins, his eyes firmly on the road. "Esme made sure we were prepared, which is why there is no shock."

I almost scoff. Fucking hell, _I'm_ shocked.

"Tori hasn't said all that much," he informs me, and I can hear the worry in his voice. "I think she's talking to James about it. He's been good for her."

He sounds so much like a dad, I almost smile.

Still, I can't help the jealousy that I feel. Carlisle probably knows so much more about my family than I do, because he's been here. With them all. While I've been in Chicago, with my friends, living a life completely separate to my dying mother. I feel the guilt I should, but they told me I could go.

So I did.

"Riley keeps telling everyone that his Nana has gone to be with the angels," he continues. "It's what your mother told him. I suspect that she and Riley discussed several things when they were together. Secrets, as he says."

I close my eyes, _feeling_ something that I wasn't sure I was going to feel: regret.

Fucking feelings. Fucking Seattle.

I should have come home. I should have spent her last months _here_ , with her. I should have seen her every day, laughed with her. I should have been here. I should not have missed a single moment of her last days, weeks, months.

I run a rough hand through my hair in frustration, and Carlisle lets out a soft chuckle, forcing me to look at him with wide, curious eyes. What the fuck is so funny?

"You keep doing that, and you're going to end up bald," he says, and I just stare at him.

What?

"Isn't that what your mother used to say?"

I just continue to stare.

"Edward?"

"Are you staying?" I blurt out.

He frowns at me. "Am I staying where?"

I take a moment to compose myself but, when I speak, I still sound like a desperate child. "Are you going to leave us too?" I ask. "I mean, it makes sense that you would, because - "

He cuts me off. "Never. Never, Edward." He takes a breath. "I know that my promises and assurances mean nothing, but I will never willingly go. I won't leave you. You're all - well, you're my family."

I blink back tears. Of course, now would be the time I cry. "Carlisle?"

"No, just listen to me," he says, his grip shifting on the steering wheel. He's still not looking at me though, and it's probably for the best. "This world has dealt you all a horrible hand, and I'm sorry for that. I don't know if I can make it any better, but I vow not to make it any worse. I know that you all need me and, frankly, I need you all too. So, no, I'm not leaving. I'm staying." He lets out a huffed breath. "Whether you like it or not."

I can hear his slight amusement, and it gives me hope that maybe, somehow, we can all get through this. _Together_. It's cliché and childish, I know, but I can't help it. I want to hold onto this moment, and I want to believe him. Desperately.

"Thank you," I say.

"For what?"

"I don't know," I say, because I don't. I just want to tell him that I'm grateful; that I appreciate him. I can't remember having these types of conversations with my own father, and it makes me feel odd. For so much of my life, I looked up to my dad like nothing on God's Earth could touch him. And then he left, and I feel like every memory is now tainted by it. He _left_.

And now, so has my mom.

"Everything," I eventually say, and Carlisle risks a look my way. "For loving her. For making her happy. For being with her at the end, when I - " I stop short. When I what?

Carlisle reaches for my forearm and squeezes gently. "You couldn't," he says, as if he knows. And maybe he does, because I sure as hell don't. I _couldn't_. I couldn't be here and watch her die. Maybe my entire family could sense it. Maybe it's why they kept it from me for so long. Maybe it's why they said it was okay for me to go.

Because they knew I couldn't handle it.

They knew, all along, just how fucking weak I am.

Carlisle takes his hand back and the moment is lost. Or it's still there, and we're both choosing not to acknowledge it. Everything's too real; everything's too raw. I don't doubt that we'll revisit this conversation.

Really, I have half a mind to tell him about Bella. Maybe he'll have the insight I need not to feel like the entire floor just fell out from underneath me. I have questions, and I want answers, but I haven't touched my own phone since I received the phone call that changed everything. As far as I know, Bella doesn't even know about my mom, and I sure as hell am not going to be the one to tell her. I haven't _told_ anyone. I'm sure I wouldn't be able to say the words out loud anyway.

The rest of the drive passes in relative silence. Carlisle asks if I've eaten, and I nod. It's a lie, of course, because he knows I don't eat when I fly. But I also kind of haven't eaten since -

Fuck, I can't even remember.

When we finally get to the house, Carlisle pulls into the driveway and we sit for a while, neither of us speaking.

"Whenever you're ready, Edward," he says after a while.

I turn my head to look at him. Surely, he must know that it's unlikely I'll ever be ready. "Where is she?" I ask.

"Not here."

It's enough to get me moving. I mean, logically, I _know_ she's not here, but I need the confirmation. I trust that she's somewhere safe; somewhere comfortable. Without another word, I get out of the car and stretch. Much like the city of Seattle; the house doesn't look any different. Does it know? Does it know that the woman who _made_ it is now gone forever?

Peter is in the living room with Riley when we go through the front door, and my nephew jumps up at the sight of me. He runs straight towards me, and almost knocks me over with the force of his hug. He doesn't say anything though, which is a surprise. He just releases me and then rushes up the stairs as if he has to fetch something to give me, now that I'm here.

I can hear Carlisle behind me, but my eyes are on Peter. He looks defeated, bone-tired and _sad_. It's in his bones. This loss we've suffered; he feels it in every fibre of his being.

"Edward," he whispers, and then we're rushing towards each other. I wrap him in a hug so tightly that it hurts _me_. For once, I want to be the little brother. I _need_ to be the little brother.

I don't know for how long we stay that way, just holding each other. I do know that, some time later, Tori emerges from somewhere and we have our first family hug without my mom.

It's not lost on any of us that we'll never have another one with her again.

* * *

When the first sight of daylight arrives on Sunday morning, I haven't slept at all. Tori forced me to try, but I've failed. Dismally. All I did is lie in bed and, every time I closed my eyes; I pictured her face. Her perfect, beautiful face; the face I remember before the cancer claimed her.

So, by morning, I'm grumpy, and terribly irritable, but Riley comes to my room early and crawls into bed with me. I pull him against my chest and he wriggles for a moment, before he settles down.

"Auntie Tori keeps crying," he whispers, which isn't really a whisper at all. "Nana didn't want us to cry. She said so."

I close my eyes tightly, trying desperately to keep hold of my emotions. I won't break; I won't let him see me break. He needs me to be stronger, but my heart is broken.

 _I'm_ broken

It's Charlotte who finds us. She's in a bit of a panic because, clearly when she went to check on Riley; he wasn't in his bed. Relief washes over her for a moment, before her face is showing her obvious concern. And then a bit of something else that I don't recognise.

Maybe she's worried that Riley chose to come to me instead of either of his parents. I can understand why she would be worried about that. In a few days, I'll be gone... and then what?

But will I actually go back to Chicago? Do I want to? What do I have left there anyway, when my family needs me here?

I can't actually see Riley's face, so I mouth my question to Charlotte: "Is he asleep?"

She nods.

"Do you need me?"

She nods again.

It takes me almost a minute to extricate myself from Riley's grip. He moves around a bit but I manage to get out of bed without waking him. In silence, I follow Charlotte out of my room, through the corridor and down the stairs. I run a hand through my hair, trying to tame it, but it's no use. I suspect I'll be getting back into bed anyway, so I give up on making myself look presentable pretty quickly.

Once we get to the kitchen, Charlotte hugs me. It's unexpected, but I return it anyway.

"Is something wrong?" I ask softly.

"No," she says quickly. Too quickly.

It takes me a moment to figure it out, and I feel the sudden _defeat_ take refuge within my body. "They know, don't they?"

"It's made the news circuit, yes," she tells me.

I scrub my face with both my hands. "I don't even want to know what my phone looks like right now," I say.

"Speaking of," she says, giving me a sympathetic look, before she reaches for something on the counter behind her and holds it out for me to take. It's a phone. My mom's phone, to be exact. I'd know it anywhere, with its bedazzled cover, and way too much purple.

"Tori asked me to give this to you," she says.

I hesitate, before I reach for the phone. I don't know why I feel as if it will burn me, but the metal actually feels cool in my hand.

"What am I supposed to do with this?" I ask.

"There's a note on there with instructions from T," she explains. "I didn't ask questions. She looks to be on quite the mission today."

"Where is she?"

"With James. Running errands."

I raise my eyebrows. "Errands?"

"Errands, Edward."

Any other day, and I might have made a joke about euphemisms. I mean, I'm under no illusions that my sister is probably sexually active, but our mom just -

I shake my head. It took me forever to get back _into the swing of things_ after my dad died, so I'm convinced that I'm never going to have sex again, now that my mom is -

"Okay," I say to Charlotte, a slight frown on my face. "Do you need me for anything else?"

Her gaze meets mine. "Look after my baby," she says, and I nod.

I clutch the phone tight in my hand as I make my way back to my bedroom, my feet carrying me without my mind paying attention. Once I'm safely behind the door, I deposit the phone on my dresser, climb back into bed, pull Riley back against me, and _don't_ _move_.

Riley sleeps until eleven o'clock. I don't know how he does it but, in that time, I really don't move. I don't _want_ to move. It's comforting just lying here, where nothing but my silence is expected. It's a form of hiding, sure, but I don't think I'm capable of much else.

Riley wakes up slowly, and I watch his face. For that first moment, he's oblivious to what has happened, and then he remembers. I make a strangled sound in my throat at the pain suddenly etched across his face. It is so sudden; so unexpected, and I can't imagine this ever getting any better. It pierces my heart, and I feel my mom's loss all over again.

Riley snuggles against my chest and stays perfectly still for a moment, before he practically jumps out of bed. "I need to pee," he exclaims, before he's racing out of the room.

An unexpected laugh escapes from between my lips, and the sound is so foreign to me. I can't even remember the last time I laughed. For a while, I was convinced I would never laugh again, but trust my excitable nephew to bring one right out of me.

It takes me a while to get my day started. Charlotte forces me to eat something, before I retreat to my bedroom. I should at least get started on what Tori wants me to do before she gets back. I _should_ be doing something.

I sit down at my desk and force myself to look at my mom's phone. Her Lock Screen is a picture of a baby Riley, and her Home Screen is a picture of my mom and Tori but I don't recognise where it's from, and isn't that just the crux of it all?

 _I haven't been here_.

My mom's phone is so disorganized. She doesn't have any folders for her applications, and they aren't even in an order that makes any sense. To me, at least. It probably makes - _made_ \- sense to her.

Tori's note is quick and to the point. Basically, she's put me in charge of creating a _Facebook_ Event, essentially providing details of my mother's funeral for those who we haven't been able to get the invitations to; a funeral that Esme Masen planned for herself. I mean, we definitely shouldn't have let her, because now she has us playing Elvis Presley. Seriously.

But, to do what Tori's asking, I have to use the Internet. I haven't visited the real world save for communicating with Jasper, since I arrived in Seattle. I know it's out there. I know there are people who are probably trying to get a hold of me, and I _know_ that I should care. But I don't.

Because I'm sure that one of those people _isn't_ Bella. And even if she were; it means nothing now. She's made herself perfectly clear.

So, well, after a lot of convincing, I just suck it up and log onto my _Facebook_. I've never made one of these Event things before but, if I claim to be intelligent enough to apply for medical school, then I should be able to figure this out, right? Right.

It's slow going as I fill in all the required details, trying to remain as detached as I possibly can. It's the only way I can get through it. If I imagine that this isn't my mom and this isn't her funeral, then I can will my fingers to type without feeling the weight of this very moment in my life.

For the Event, I need a picture of my mom, which takes me to her profile.

Which is a mistake. A big, fucking mistake.

When I said I haven't cried yet; that fucking changes, because there's been an outpouring of messages that I apparently missed, and I can't help myself. It's masochism at its finest. I have to read them. I have to.

 _ **Rita Smith** : I'm going to be missing you a long time, my beautiful Esme._

 _ **Denise Flipkins** : You were such a wonderful woman. Our first meeting was such a delight, and our friendship so very precious to me. You truly are an inspiration. Until we meet again, my darling. Always in my heart._

I scroll further down, reading and _crying_. I don't know why I'm doing this to myself, but I can't help it. Maybe, in some perverse way, knowing that other people, strangers essentially, are so broken over this makes me feel a little justified. I'm allowed to feel as if the world will never be bright again, right?

It all just reiterates the one important thing: Esme Masen was so very loved.

 _ **Patty During** : My beautiful friend; walk, run, dance on the clouds. You are free. I will see you in every ladybird, and every piece of art. '_ _Til we meet again. X  
_

 _ **Kathleen Murray** : I wish now more than ever to go back to those days when we were young and foolish, just so I could live through it all with you again. My dear friend, you will be missed. I love you, Esme Platt. Forever in my heart._

There are so many. And it _hurts_.

In the end, it takes me almost two hours to get the Event set up and, moments after I publish it; my mom's phone is bombarded by notifications. I quickly put it on 'Silent' before I give myself a headache. Well, more of a headache. Crying _hurts_. Everything just fucking hurts. Inside and out.

For dinner, we have spaghetti bolognaise, but I can barely taste it. After I've forced as much as I can down, I help with the dishes before I retreat to my room.

Monday doesn't go any better. Or worse, I suppose. I spend most of it fielding online and telephonic questions about the funeral. By this point, I know what's going to happen on Saturday inside and out. There's no escaping it.

Carlisle joins us for dinner, but it doesn't make any of us any more vocal than the previous night. I walk him out when he excuses himself much earlier than even I know is usual. Maybe it's something about the house. It must be nice to be able to leave.

"Will you come by my office tomorrow?" he asks, even though it isn't much of a question. "There's something that I need to give you."

His tone is grave, and I can only wonder what is he wants to give me that he can't give me at the house. I spend large chunks of my time until I'm sitting in front of him the next day wondering what it could be.

Never in my life did I think that this elusive thing he wants to give me would be a cheque; a cheque equivalent to the debt I owe, courtesy of my student loans. To the dollar.

I just stare at the little slip of paper before I stare at him.

"What is this?" I ask.

"I want you to pay off your student loans," he tells me, his voice taking on a professional quality.

I open my mouth to tell him no, but he continues before I can get another word out.

"I know what you're going to say," he says, somewhat knowingly. "And, believe me, I've already had ever argument you can think up with your mother." He drops his gaze for a moment. "This isn't charity, Edward. It isn't even a gift. What this is, is a better deal that having the banks _own you_ , as you say."

I frown.

"It's a loan of sorts," he says. "From me. We decided that it's safer for you and your family this way. More security. Less pressure."

I just stare at him.

"Edward?"

"No," I say.

He looks surprised, and I don't really blame him. Even _I'm_ surprised.

"Not for me," I say. "It should be for Tori."

At the sound of this, he shifts in his seat. "Tori is taken care of, Edward."

I blink in confusion. What?

He waits a beat before he shifts a manila folder to the centre of his desk and opens it. I listen as he explains how exactly my mom has been preparing for the end of her life, ever since she was _first_ diagnosed. If I'm being honest, I'm not sure how I feel about all of this.

"She set up funds for all three of you, scraping together everything she could for investment accounts," he explains. "For college, mainly. But, when she got sick, your father used what was left of your brother's as well as yours for the medical expenses, because you were both old enough for him to have access to. Tori's was, essentially, still locked."

I don't think I'll ever stop frowning.

"What I'm saying is that Tori is taken care of, Edward," he finishes. "Now, please, let me take care of you."

I don't know if I'm fully understanding everything he's telling me because there's one thing burning in the back of my brain. "Why?"

"Why what?"

"Why would you do this?" I ask. "Why would you do anything?"

"Edward?"

"No," I say, shaking my head. I need to know. "Why? We're not your responsibility. I mean, you don't _have_ to do anything. You can just leave. You _can_ , so why won't you? Don't you see? Don't you see how toxic we are? You should go, Carlisle. You should get as far away from us as you can."

"Edward."

I suck in a deep breath. "People keep leaving," I eventually say. "Just do us all a favour and do it now."

He leans forward. "I already told you that I'm not going anywhere," he says strongly. "Now, why don't you tell me what's really going on?"

 _What's really going on_. Fuck if I know.

I let out a long breath, before I suck it back in. A moment later, I tell him about Bella. I tell him about how lost and alone I suddenly feel, but I've got to be this beacon for my family because I'm sure that, if I fall apart, we all will.

Maybe that's why my family's done everything they can to make sure I don't fall apart.

Carlisle just listens to me. He says very little, the widening of his eyes the only reaction I see. When I've pretty much exhausted myself, he asks me a question that makes the world stop spinning.

"You said that Bella was sick before she ended it with you," he says conversationally. "Is there any chance that she could be pregnant?"

Needless to say, I leave his office feeling a bit worse than when I arrived. Nothing was resolved about the money, and I think he recognised that I'm not in the right space to be making such big decisions about my life and my future.

I spend my Wednesday trying to call Bella, but her number is clearly disconnected. I spent most of the previous night thinking back on Bella's cycle, trying to track whether it's possible. I mean, I like to think that she would tell me. I _know_ she would. I email her.

And then I phone Rose. Just the sound of her voice is enough to calm me enough to ask her if it's possible. Unlikely, she says, and I believe her. I don't want to believe anything else.

Really, it's actually surprising that it takes my family so long to ask about Bella, but it comes on Wednesday evening, just as we're having one of our quiet dinners. Charlotte brings her up by asking if she's coming to the funeral and my answering 'I don't know' doesn't really go down well.

Tori is the first to question me.

"What do you mean you don't know?"

"I mean that I don't know," I repeat. "All I know is that Jasper's getting here Friday afternoon, and then Emmett and Rose are catching an early flight on Saturday." I don't mention that we decided that, if one of us is going to stay and hold the fort back in Chicago; it should be Alice. Thankfully, she never asked for any of us to voice our reasons. She _is_ the only one of us who never actually met my mom, though I'm sure that Jasper told my mom a lot about her.

"But what about Bella?" Tori presses.

I look up at Carlisle for some help and, mercifully, he obliges. The following questions are even worse, and I deflect as best I can. I really don't want to talk about the girl who dumped me some three days before my mom died. So I merely excuse myself, take my uneaten food to the kitchen, before retreating to my bedroom.

It takes me an absurdly long time to fall asleep, only to wake up early. I roll out of be, get ready, and then get down to business as soon as I've had my coffee that I hide from Charlotte. I make calls to various people, ensuring that all the arrangements are finalised. I feel equal parts useful and ridiculous checking that the white doves are ready, and that the caterers have made sure that there are no olives in any of the food.

Nobody can ever say that Esme Masen didn't have flare.

When I've crossed off the last thing on my to-do list, I feel sort of empty. Useless even. If I don't have anything to do, I'll just obsess over Bella, or over the fact that we're burying my mother in two days time.

I contemplate taking a nap, but I'm a little too wired for that.

I consider going for a run.

No.

So I decide on a walk. Well, I plan to, until I come across Tori's slightly ajar door. Through the crack, I can see her sitting at her desk, staring forward, at nothing. She's still not being her usual vocal self, and I'm at a loss as to how to help. What can I do? How can I bear her pain for her?

I step forward and softly knock on her door, pushing it open in the process. "Hey," I say.

She waits a beat before she looks at me, offering me a small smile as her greeting.

My heart aches at the sight.

I dig in my pocket, before I move forward to hand her my mom's phone, but she shakes her head at the sight of it. She clearly doesn't want it.

"You should keep it," she says, her voice soft. "You need it more than I do."

I don't know what that means, but I think she's trying to tell me something without actually saying it. Whatever it is, I figure that Tori gave me my mom's phone for a reason other than to send invitations to her contact list. There's something more, which is the reason I go looking when I return to my bedroom, my _walk_ forgotten.

I sit down at my desk and unlock the phone. The battery's almost dead, so I plug it into my wall charger and open my mom's photos. She has an absurd amount, with most of the more recent ones being of Riley. I go through them all, all the way back to before my dad died. I can't actually remember the last time I willingly looked at a picture of him. I think that a part of me almost forgot what he looked like.

Tori has his eyes, and Peter has his nose and chin. I have his hair and his loyalty. At least, that's what my mom used to say.

True to form, my mom also has pictures of pictures. Peter's first day of school. My first steps. Tori and my mom in the hospital. It amazes me how much of a mom she really is - _was_. It's a look back at her life, and I have to wipe at my eyes from time to time.

I fall asleep to my mom's smiling face, and dream about the trip to Bali that my dad promised her.

When I wake up - much later than usual - I waste time getting dressed for a day I intend to spend hidden. At my desk, with my mom's phone in my hand, I move on to her messages. Maybe I shouldn't, but she has a few from the bank, which I take a note of, and some from people who didn't yet know that she would never again be able to reply.

Now the entire country knows.

Which means that Bella knows.

 _Bella_.

As soon as I think of her, my eyes catch sight of her name, and I can't help myself. I mean, I should feel bad, but I don't. I've lost two people this week, and how could I ever pass up the opportunity? I'm only human and, really, I'm a deeply flawed individual.

The first message I see is the last, and I frown.

 **Bella: It's done.**

It's from Monday, just hours after she decided to tell me that she didn't want me anymore, and it confuses the hell out of me. What's done? Did my mom know what Bella was going to do?

Before I get myself all worked up, I start scrolling upwards, trying to get to the beginning. I don't anticipate having to swipe along the screen for so long. How much did my mom and Bella talk? _Jesus_.

When I finally get to the start, I set the phone down and think about it for a moment. I don't know what I'm about to read, but I think I'll regret it if I don't. Maybe I'll regret it if I do?

Without another thought, I lift the phone and start to read.

 **Bella: Hello, Esme. It's Bella. I hope you don't mind, but I kind of stole your number out of Edward's phone.**

 **Esme: Hello, Bella :) I don't mind at all. It's actually great to hear from you. Edward's always so cryptic and concise whenever I ask about you. Doesn't he know that I'd like to get to know the girl hes so enamoured with?**

 **Bella: I don't know if I should be worried or not :)**

 **Bella: I just wanted to tell you that we're doing our best to look after him over here. Jasper, Emmet, Rose, and even Alice. The five of us are taking care of him as best we can. Just wanted you to know, because it bothers him that you worry so much, and I'm trying to ease both mother and son here.**

As mad as I am - at least, I think I'm mad - I can't help my slight smile. I had no idea that Bella and my mom talked about this kind of thing. The conversation kind of ends there, and I suspect that my mom must have phoned Bella. She does that. _Did_ that.

I scroll through more of their messages. They exchanged recipes and even a few memes. My mom asked about her, as if she were trying to figure Bella out. I absently wonder if she succeeded, because I clearly didn't. Well, I thought I had, but I was wrong.

 **Esme: Bella, honey, do you remember the name of that band that Edward likes? The one with the weird name.**

 **Bella: I'm afraid that doesn't really narrow it down for me. He likes a lot of weird music.**

 **Esme: This is true. It's the band whose music he likes to play.**

 **Bella: Play?**

 **Esme: On the piano.**

 **Bella: Oh. I've never heard him play before.**

And now she probably never will.

 **Esme: He's wonderful at it, and that's not just the bias of a very proud mother. There's something just so peaceful about him when he sits at his piano, and plays the music of his heart.**

 **Esme: I dare say though, the music in him has been conflicted. His father was always such a supporter of that part of him, and I think he's avoiding it because of Garrett.**

 **Bella: The way he avoids listening to Elvis, and eating Hawaiian pizza?**

 **Esme: Exactly. Though, between you and me, I've always hated Hawaiian. Who ever thought that putting pineapple on pizza was a good idea?**

 **Bella: Hahaha if ever there was doubt that Edward's your son - that just proves it!**

It comes as no surprise to me that they spent most of their time talking about me. I _was_ the link between them, but everything is different now. Everything.

As I scroll, I encounter messages where my mom asked after my health and my mental state. Bella, as always, was blunt with her honesty. I don't know what it is about all of this that puts me on edge. Were they all just watching, waiting for the cracks in my shell to grow?

 **Esme: Seeing as we have now officially met, I feel as if there are things I can now tell you.**

 **Bella: Anything, Esme.  
**

 **Esme: My son is a gentle creature. He carries the great big world on his shoulders and bears it all without complaint. He's always been my baby boy; my knight in shining armour. He's kind, so caring and loving, and I'm afraid his nature is going to end up hurting him.**

Wait. Wait. What? What is this?

 **Esme: When he was seven, Garrett and I took him and Peter to an arcade, just for an outing. Edward spent the afternoon winning himself tickets, that he would eventually get to exchange for a toy at the end. He had quite the collection by the time I took him to the counter. Something like four hundred tickets. He was spoiled for choice.**

 **Esme: Further down the counter, being helped by someone else was a little boy, younger than Edward, who clearly didn't understand the concept of the tickets, because he wanted something that required more tickets that he had. I watched my own little boy observe this for a moment, before his eyes settled on me. He'd made the decision before he even asked for my permission. A moment later, the other little boy had the toy he wanted, and my little one looked awfully satisfied with his lollipop and plastic whistle.**

 **Esme: He's a giver, you see? It started young. He just gives and gives, expecting nothing in return. He gives of his time, and his heart; almost desperate at times. So, I've worried about him the most. The world is already an ugly place, and I worry about the beautiful soul within him.**

 **Esme: Which is also why I have to admit that I was worried about what you would do to him. I confess that, for a moment, I thought you would be bad for him. He trusts easily, wears his heart on his sleeve, and I was worried about what you would bring into his life. If he would be able to handle what it meant to be with you; if he should even have to handle it. I worried if he would be in danger, or if he was going to have to be protected, because my family cannot handle another loss. We'll break beyond repair if anything were ever to happen to him. So I was worried.**

 **Esme: And then I figured it out. You brought love into his life.**

 **Bella: I love him very much, Esme.  
**

 **Bella: Also, that little story may or may not have made me love him even more.**

 **Esme: I know you do, sweetheart. And he loves you. Which is why you have the greatest responsibility of all of us. Something that you have to be willing to bear.**

 **Bella: I am.**

 **Esme: I'm dying, Bella. He refuses to acknowledge the truth of it, and I fear for him. I fear for the fact that he doesn't, and I fear for the moment that he does. When I'm gone, he's going to be sad for a long while. He'll be angry too, and he'll try to shield you and everyone else from his pain. He'll want to carry everyone else's; in an attempt to ease it. He won't succeed.**

 **Bella: I'll get him through it.**

 **Esme: He will try to be strong. He'll hold it all in for as long as possible, but you have to be there when he breaks. You have to, or I'm afraid he won't survive.**

 **Bella: I'll get him through it. I promise.  
**

If I weren't already so emotional, I might even laugh. Where is she now?

I have this sudden, inexplicable desire to prove them both wrong. I'm going to be fine. I don't need Bella to get me through it. I won't go so far as to say that I don't need _anyone_ , because I do.

I scroll through messages, absently noticing how sporadic Bella's replying becomes. It's around the time that D.C. started to happen.

When I get to the dates that I want, my breath hitches in my throat. It's just days before she arrived at my bedroom door and told me that she didn't want me.

 **Bella: Esme?**

 **Esme: My sweet Bella, what's the matter?**

 **Bella: Something has happened.**

 **Esme: Oh, Darling, what is it? Must I call you?**

 **Bella: No!**

 **Bella: I mean, no, I don't think that I could say the words out loud anyway. It's better this way.  
**

 **Esme: What is? Bella, tell me what's wrong.**

 **Bella: I love your son.**

 **Esme: I know you do, sweetheart. I've known it for a long time now. Anyone can see that.**

 **Bella: That's the problem.**

 **Esme: I don't understand.**

You and I both, Mum.

 **Bella: You said it yourself; he already shoulders so much. He carries the weight of the world on his strong shoulders, and the last thing I've ever wanted was to add to it. I never wanted him to look at me as if I were a burden.**

 **Esme: You know he doesn't. Where is all of this coming from?**

There is a large gap in replies, based on the times of the messages, and I feel my heart rate pick up. For some reason, I just know that I'm going to learn part of the reason why my girlfriend decided that breaking my heart was the thing to do, just days before my mother took my heart with her.

 **Bella: I wish that there was an easier way to tell you this, but there isn't. I haven't told Edward, because this truly is the last thing he needs. I mean, it could even be nothing, but the amount of things that have happened already prove that starting anything with anyone while my father was president was always going to be a bad idea.**

 **Bella: But I love him. I love him so much, Esme.**

 **Esme: I don't understand what you're trying to tell me, Bella. Are you in danger? Is Edward?**

 **Bella: Yes, and yes.**

What?

 **Esme: Oh.**

That word says so much, and I can only imagine what was going through her head in that moment.

 **Bella: I know what I want to do, and what I have to do.**

 **Esme: But the question remains, what are you going to do?**

 **Bella: What am I going to do?**

There's another lengthy gap in the time between the two messages, and I can only assume that my mom put a lot of thought into her next message.

Which is only two words long.

 **Esme: Leave him.**

I blink. I must not have read right. From Bella's response, she must have gone through the same thing.

 **Bella: What?**

 **Esme: Leave him, Bella.**

 **Bella: What?**

 **Esme: You're talking to me about this, instead of him, because we both already know what you're going to do. You promised you would get him through what's to come and, if you can't do that; then you have to leave him.  
**

What the fuck? No. No. What?

 **Bella: But. But I can't.**

 **Bella: I love him.**

 **Esme: I know you do, but I also believe that you already know what you're going to do, and you just need me to agree with you. You want my permission to break his heart before I do. The threat is too much. It's why you're so worried. Something could happen, and then what? What happens to you? What happens to my family; my poor, broken family, if Edward is gone? We're barely holding it together as it is, and they'll fall apart completely if something happens to him.**

 **Esme: So, yes, leave him, Bella. His heart is too kind and his love is too pure for what we're both doing to him. If you can't be who he needs right now, then let him get through this with those who are.**

There's another long gap in responses, and my heart is beating much faster in my chest.

 **Bella: He'll never forgive me.**

 **Esme: Maybe.**

 **Esme: I suspect he'll never forgive me either. The same way he's never forgiven his father.**

 **Bella: I tried, Esme. I tried so hard to be what he needed. All I wanted was for us to have a normal, happy relationship. But I swore I would protect him from my life. I promised myself that I wouldn't drag him into the nasty world of politics.**

 **Bella: You are right.**

 **Bella: I'm sorry.**

 **Esme: As am I, my sweet Bella. As am I.**

And then, eventually, we're back to the final message, sent on that fateful Monday; the day that everything truly started to spiral out of control.

 **Bella: It's done.**

Oh Mum.

Bella.

What the fuck did you two do?


	16. Chapter 16

**Chapter Sixteen**

I throw the phone onto my desk and stand up suddenly, knocking my chair over. No. No. This didn't just happen. What the fuck? I honestly can't believe what I just read. How dare they? How fucking dare they make decisions for me, as if I don't know what I can and can't handle?

Fuck.

It's true though, isn't it? I _don't_ even know what I can and can't handle.

Before I know it, I'm reaching for my own phone and dialling Jasper. I don't even know what I'm going to say, but I just need to talk to him. He'll know what to say. He'll know what to do. But the phone doesn't even ring. In fact, it goes straight to his voicemail and, when I check the time; I realise that he's probably in the air right now. On his way here. For my mom's funeral.

I throw my own phone at my bed with such force that it bounces right off and lands on the carpet. I start to pace, my mind racing. What am I supposed to do now? What do I do?

Fuck.

I can't even breathe.

What did they do?

What do _I_ do?

I need to get out of here.

Without another thought, I grab for my keys and wallet and rush out of my room. I think I hear Tori say my name, but I don't stop. I'm going. I have to go. I can't be here. That's all I know.

I burst out the front door, and I'm tempted to run. I just want to _run_ , but I know that if I start running; I won't be able to stop. I absently think of Forrest Gump as I make a sharp left and head towards the driveway.

I get in my mom's car, pull out, and _drive_. I drive and I drive, but I don't even know where I'm going. I'm headed South, I think, but I don't care.

This isn't happening.

But it is.

I drive fast enough that I need to pay attention, my knuckles turning white from the force of my grip on the steering wheel. It isn't until I'm pulling into the parking lot that I realise where my subconscious mind was telling me I needed to go. I take a moment to compose myself, before I convince myself that this is indeed what I want to do. I need to talk to somebody; somebody who's not actively involved in _everything_.

My talk with Carlisle feels like years ago, and I don't really want Carlisle to know about the part that involves my mom.

After letting out a puff of breath, I climb out and make my way to the entrance. I don't know what I'm doing here, but I'm here now and it isn't the first time. I've been twice before. The first time was after the reading of my dad's will, which was after everything was said and done; and the second was when my mom went into remission the second time.

So, basically, it's been a while. Despite that, I remember the procedure. It's nothing major, because it isn't as if it's a maximum security prison or anything. He was convicted for insurance fraud, not murder.

Well.

My dad _is_ dead, so that remains to be seen.

I get shuffled through to the visitors' centre, which is just a room with tables and chairs that are bolted to the ground. To prevent furniture from going missing, I assume. No; from being _thrown_.

There are a few people around, loved ones conversing quietly and family members staring each other down. I can't help wondering what they're all in here for. I wonder if their circumstances are as fucked up as the ones that ended up with my Uncle Eli behind bars.

I sit quietly and wait. He wasn't expecting me.

 _Obviously_ , because I wasn't expecting to be here either.

Maybe they told him who came to see him because, when he does show up, he doesn't look surprised. He's wearing faded blue pants - they might have been jeans at some point, but I can't be sure - and a plain blue flannel shirt. If I didn't know that he was actually locked up, I'd think it was just casual Friday at work.

I stand up when he approaches, but he doesn't move to embrace me, which is something I appreciate. Maybe he can tell I'm guarded, though his eyes are giving away some emotion that I don't quite recognise.

"Edward," he says, and I blink. "I didn't think I'd see you."

"I didn't think I'd come."

"They told me about Es - " he stops, his voice catching. I don't blame him. I can barely _think_ her name, let alone say it out loud. "I'm so sorry, Edward."

I drop my gaze. I don't actually _know_ if I came here to talk about my mom, so I don't.

"Do you want to sit?" he offers, and my eyes flick towards the seat I've just vacated. After a brief nod, I move to sit back down, and he slides into the seat opposite me. We kind of just stare at each other for the longest time, before he breaks the silence. "How is school?" he asks, as if he's deemed it a safe topic to talk about.

He doesn't even know.

"It's okay," I say.

"What year are you in now?" he asks, even though I suspect that he knows. Peter told me that he asks about me whenever Peter visits. He's the only one of us who's been able to forgive him for what happened. I can't. I see too much of my dad in him.

"I'm a Junior," I tell him anyway.

His eyes shift nervously and, God, this is so fucking awkward. "Are you still thinking of med school?" he asks.

It's a good question, because I don't actually know anymore. I used to be so sure of many things _before_ , but I'm not sure of anything right now. I want to be able to tell him that nothing has changed. I want to be able to _feel_ as if I'm the same boy I was when none of this shit happened to us.

But then I would be lying.

I don't even know who I am right now. Like, the definition of who I am has been knocked off its axis, and I'm flailing. I don't even know which direction to go to get back on course. How do I get back on track when it feels as if the ground has fallen out from under me?

"I'm still thinking about it," I finally say, and it's as much of the truth as I can handle right now.

He regards me for a moment, before he sighs. "I tried to get permission to be there tomorrow, but it was denied," he says. "We weren't family."

 _They weren't family._

It's odd to think about. This man, who was once such a presence in our house, wasn't even related to my mom. They'd all been so close once upon a time. My dad, my mom and my uncle. The only family that lived in Seattle. They had to stick together.

We're expecting a lot of family to descend on Seattle for tomorrow's proceedings. Distant cousins and forgotten aunts and uncles are going to be in our hometown, and say goodbye to my mom as if they ever gave a shit about her while she was alive; while we struggled to keep ourselves afloat.

Oh, the scandal of insurance fraud. Oh, that _poor_ family. How could Garrett ever do that to them?

I hate them all.

I told my siblings that I didn't want anyone but my grandmother and aunt staying in our house, and they really had no choice but to agree. Grandma Platt is _old_ , nearing the age you don't come back from. As much as it pained my mom to do so, she sent her mother to live with her sister in Louisiana, because she just couldn't handle it, nor could we afford it.

Plus, Grandma Platt _loves_ New Orleans.

Who doesn't?

We haven't been to visit in more than a year. It's been more than a year since my grandmother's seen her daughter, and now she's dead.

"Edward?" Uncle Eli questions, looking concerned.

I shake my head. "You did a fucked up thing," I say, and it opens up a can of worms for which we both aren't prepared. "Both of you, you did a terrible, misguided, fucked up thing. I mean, what were you thinking? How could you do this to me?" If he notices that I don't say 'us,' he doesn't show it. "I trusted you. I loved you, and look at what you did," I go on, unable to stop myself. It's all coming out now. "Why? We were fine! We were going to get through it all, but you had to rip the rug out from under me, didn't you? With your misguided reasoning; with your _love_."

I'm not even talking about him and my dad anymore, and we both know it. He just sits there and takes it as I vent my frustration. Is it even frustration at this point? It feels like something more; something stronger. 'Frustration' just sounds too weak.

When I'm done, he just stares at me, and I stare back. What the fuck is the matter with me?

"Edward," he says slowly, quietly. "Tell me what's happened."

I don't even know where to start. What do I even say to him right now? How do I explain what's happened when I don't even understand what's happened myself. I want to tell him, but the words won't come. What am I even doing here? What did I expect?

"Edward," he prompts. "Just breathe. Start slow. Tell me."

I breathe.

I start slow.

And I tell him.

He listens as I speak, saying nothing. I can't tell if he's better or worse than Carlisle at this part. He gives nothing away, his face entirely passive. Maybe it's because he's never met Bella. I wonder if he even knew that I was dating the President's daughter before now. Most of the country seems to know.

It's not secret that Uncle Eli doesn't like the President, which is something he reiterates once I'm done.

"Never liked that Swan," he murmurs, and I can't help my smile. Trust him to remind me of his opinions at _this_ time. "Answer me this, Edward."

I wait.

"If it were the other way around and you were in her place; what would you have done?"

It's something I've thought about already, but it's the first time that I truly consider what Bella and I were actually asking of each other. I was the boyfriend to the President's daughter, and she was the girlfriend to the boy who's mother was dying.

It was too much for both of us, and we were naive to think that starting a relationship was ever going to work. I can look back at myself; at how much I pushed for us, and shake my head. Bella was right from the very beginning, wasn't she? I've been a fucking idiot this entire time.

I don't think that I feel any better when I do leave. If I'm being honest, I'd say that I feel _worse_. Maybe he's helped postpone the inevitable, because my full-blown meltdown doesn't exactly feel imminent anymore. I've delayed it.

I think I'm in the 'depression' stage of my grief about Bella.

I haven't even started with my mom. Those are five stages I suspect are going to take the rest of my miserable life to work through.

* * *

I watch him as he reads, just waiting. I can't even sit still, as I sit on the edge of my bed, hunched but alert. My right leg is bouncing uncontrollably, but I'm not doing anything to still it. My energy needs to go somewhere, and the Conservation of Energy is making it manifest this way.

Sue me.

Jasper is seated in my desk chair, turned to face me as he reads from my mom's phone in his hand. I'm tense. I've been tense since he walked through the door. He was supposed to text me when he landed so I could pick him up, but he apparently didn't want me to go out of my way. He should know that I need the distraction.

Also, I kind if haven't had my phone on me all day so the point is moot.

Secretly, I think that he needed the solitary car ride to prepare himself for this house. My mom is alive in the walls, I swear she is.

Wait. Is that part of the denial stage?

"What the fuck?" Jasper suddenly says, and my eyes snap towards him. "What the fuck did I just read?"

I have no words for him.

"That bitch," he hisses, and I feel something protective spark inside of me.

"Hey," I say.

"Not your mom," he adds, somewhat sheepishly. "I mean Bella."

"Not any better," I mutter.

Jasper shakes his head as he sets the phone down on the desk behind him. "I don't even know what to say," he says; "and I always know what to say. It's kind of my job. I'm supposed to know what to say, but I'm stumped. I don't know what to say. What were they - I just - Edward."

Well, so much for the level-headed psyche major making sense of this complete clusterfuck.

"Are you okay?" he asks me.

Am I okay? Well, isn't that the question of the century?

"No," I say; "but I'm considerably better than I was earlier." It sounds like the truth. "I don't think the truth of it has really sunk in yet," I admit. "It's kind of odd to think about your mom and girlfriend conspiring to try to protect you from - " I sigh. "I don't even know what they were trying to protect me from."

"Themselves."

"Myself."

Jasper sighs. "This is fucked up."

We don't discuss it again because, well, fortunately or unfortunately, Emmett and Rose aren't as considerate as Jasper. There's no way they were going to say that they didn't want me to _go out of my way_ and mission to the airport to fetch them. Despite everything that's happened, Emmett is still Emmett and Rose is still Rose. Maybe they realise that it's what I need, because it's what I get.

The fewer things change, the better.

Jasper comes with me to the airport, and the trip is quiet. We listen to soft music that I don't even hear. I suspect that, even if it were playing full blast, I still wouldn't hear it. The words mean nothing and neither does the beat. I definitely don't see myself ever coming back to music now.

The first thing Rose does when I see her again is complain about the rain. She huffs that bit more when Jasper informs her that it only started as we were driving to pick _her_ up, his tone of voice very telling.

"The weather knows you're here, babe," Emmett says, casually swinging an arm around her shoulders as Jasper and I see to the bags. I don't mind because I like having things to do; even the menial, mundane things.

I'm the one to drive us back to the house, which gives Jasper the opportunity to explain how things are going to work today and tomorrow. He doesn't mention anything to do with what we learned from my mom's messages and I appreciate him for it. I don't want it to be some kind of _group_ discussion anyway. Hearing them talk about my mom's funeral is difficult enough.

Even though I accepted having my mom's mother and sister stay at our house; they decided against it. My aunt has her own husband and kids and they're staying at a hotel together. Grandma Platt decided that it's best if she stays with them.

Either way, _my_ extended family has been relegated to the basement.

"Wait," Rose says from the backseat when Jasper brings it up. "I have to share a space with _both_ of them?"

Jasper snickers at the same time that Emmett lets out a 'whoop whoop.' I just about manage to smile at the horrified look on her face. It's either that or she can sleep in my mom's room, and I have a feeling she won't want to do that. We're a little tight for space as it is because nobody actually wants to go into my mom's room.

Well, nobody besides Riley.

While I'm at school, my bedroom is actually Riley's. I think he prefers when I'm home though, because then he gets to hop from bed to bed, thoroughly enjoying when we fight over him. I guess now there's one less _warm_ bed to choose from.

Dinner is already ready by the time we get to the house and I make note of the fact that Charlotte has made _extra_ extra food. She's seen how Emmett can eat - more like wolf down, if I'm being honest - and she's prepared for him this time around. James and Carlisle end up joining us, and the house feels _alive_ for the first time since I arrived in Seattle after I received the phone call that changed everything.

There are a lot of small conversations going on at the dining table and I can't help but love the cacophony of sound; the marriage between Seattle and Chicago. At a certain point, Tori forces us to discuss the plans for the morning: who's doing what and who's going where.

We'll be coming back to the house after the service, which is kind of why Charlotte turns into a drill sergeant once we've eaten. The house has to be spotless and tidy. It has to represent Esme Masen, even though she's no longer here.

We get broken up into small groups and Jasper makes the mistake of comparing red-haired Charlotte to Mrs Weasley from _Harry Potter_ , which invariably gets himself into cleaning the bathrooms.

"The gloves are under the kitchen sink," Charlotte says over her shoulder, and Emmett and I share a laugh. I'm surprised I _can_ laugh.

There's soft music playing throughout the house and I keep catching myself tapping my foot along to the beat. My fingers even threaten to play imaginary keys at some point and it's making me deeply uncomfortable.

Riley is sent to bed first, though he fights it. He looks exhausted but even I know he's not going to sleep. There's just something about this night that demands your consciousness. I'm probably going to spend it dissecting everything that's happened in the last week.

In the end, I'm half right.

I retire to my room last, making sure that Emmett, Jasper and Rose are settled, before I do my customary sweep of the house. It looks so neat that I'd doubt that people even lived here if I was a stranger just walking in. Maybe that's the point, I guess, but it makes me feel disingenuous. I don't want us pretending to be something we're not.

Which is why I shift a few pillows on the couches in the living room so that they're haphazard and turn Riley's shoes skew in the front foyer.

It's the little things that make me feel so much better.

When I'm satisfied with the relative disarray, I finally go upstairs. I shower in an attempt to wash the day off my body. I'm not sure that I succeed though, because I still feel heavy; burdened.

Peter mentioned that I could take a step back but I honestly feel as if the weight of responsibility has increased. Maybe Carlisle and my mom knew I would feel this, which is why they cooked up this weird student loan repayment scheme. Okay, not _scheme_. That makes it sound illegal or something.

Anyway.

I've just settled into bed when there's a knock on my door, surprising me. I thought everyone was asleep. I can barely respond before the door opens and Rose slips inside, dressed in too-big flannel pajamas with a woolen hat on her head.

"Rose," I say, smiling automatically; "it really isn't that cold."

"I'm not used to all this Seattle rain," she says with a huff as she pads across my room. "Scoot over."

The look in her eyes tells me that she's serious, so I shift to the right and just watch as she climbs into my bed beside me. She sits up against the pillows and drags the duvet up to her nose, exaggerating a shiver.

"Seriously, how do people live here?"

I roll my eyes, absently mirroring her position. "Does Emmett know you're here?"

She nods. "I kind of declared it to them both before I left the basement," she tells me. "I'll go back in a little while, don't get your knickers in a twist. I just - " she pauses.

"You just what?"

Her facial features soften and she regards me with the kind of expression that makes my heart hurt. I've seen that look in her eye before; it's one of understanding. "I just wanted to talk," she eventually says.

"About what?"

"Well, firstly, why didn't you tell me to bring warmer clothes?"

Despite myself, I chuckle. "Oh, come on, Frosty, this is nothing," I say. "You're really losing brownie points here, you know that?"

She huffs in mock annoyance. Then: "Secondly, Bella did not break up with you because she's pregnant."

The sound of her name catches me off guard, but I just about manage to keep it together. "I know," I say, my voice barely a whisper.

Rose blinks. "You _know_? Did you speak to her?"

"You know as well as I know that her number's been disconnected, Rose," I say tiredly. "How do _you_ know?"

She surprises me by blushing. "Uh, well, I may or may not have sent her several strongly worded emails," she admits.

I should find it funny, but I really don't. "So her email _does_ work," I mutter.

"It was her school one," she says quickly, as if she needs me to know. "It's probably been disconnected _now_ though, given that - " she stops suddenly.

"Given that what?"

"Well, I do believe that Bella is no longer a registered student," she says; "which just seems like an entire waste of a year. I mean, the least she could have done was actually finish the semester. It's only a few weeks."

I don't really know how to respond to that, so I ask another question. "Did she tell you _why_ she did break up with me?"

Rose must hear something in my voice because she turns her body to face me, the questions in her blue eyes. "Do _you_ know why?"

I nod.

"Oh."

"Oh," I echo.

"She wasn't explicit about it," she explains with a shrug. "She just mentioned that it was what was _safest_. Whatever that means."

I don't know why but, like with Jasper, I have the strange urge to defend Bella. I don't _want_ to, but it just feels like my body's automatic response. I press my lips together and say nothing.

My silence is enough of a tell, apparently. "Safest," she repeats. "As in, for _you_?"

The inflection in her voice tells me she's asked a question but I don't respond.

"Oh."

"Oh," I echo again.

We fall silent as the truth of what Bella's done settles between us. I think that I'm much more willing to accept Bella's role in this whole mess than I am to accept my mom's. They had no business discussing me and the situation we're now in the way they did.

Bella should have talked to _me_.

Rose reaches for my left hand and gives it a gentle squeeze. The comforting contact helps quiet the raging war going on inside my head.

"How are you feeling about tomorrow?" she asks me after a while.

I fight a yawn, and fail. "The truth?"

"I'd expect nothing else."

I sigh. "I think I'll be able to get through it," I tell her slowly. "I have the order of events memorized and, if I just take it one thing at a time; I think I can survive the day without completely losing it."

Her eyes meet mine. "'Losing it' seems like an odd way to put it, Edward."

If she only knew.

"How are you, really?"

I make a move to run my hand through my hair but stop midway. I think the action itself is now haunted by my mother. Maybe I really just don't want to end up bald before I turn thirty. Imagine what my ears would look like without my hair there to camouflage them.

"I want to run," I eventually tell her. "Every second, I just have this urge to take off but I know I can't. I have to be here. I have to be strong. I have to - " my voice catches and I look away from her, absently taking my hand back. I don't think I can _handle_ her comfort.

"Why do you _have to_ do these things, Edward?" she asks quietly, the volume of her voice blending into the late night air.

"If I don't, who - "

She cuts me off. "No, I mean, why do you have to be here? Who said that you have to be strong?"

"Nobody has to _say_ it, Rose," I say, slightly annoyed. "I can't just leave. My family needs me. They've always needed me, and I've spent the last few years in another fucking state when I should have been _here_." The rise in my voice catches us both off guard but she doesn't look at all ruffled. Rosalie Hale, everybody.

"Oh, I see," she says; "so it's all on you then?"

"I don't even know what that means."

She sighs. "Look, Edward; I know about as much about grief as my own experiences have taught me, but I do know this: being strong, being the rock for your family not only hurts you but it hurts them as well. The point is to _feel_ it so you can get through it. You're hurting yourself if you push it out of the way instead of taking it apart. It just creates - "

I cut her off. "Okay, Dr. Phil, enough with the analogies."

She glares at me. "I'm just trying to help," she says, frowning slightly. "We worry about you."

"I know," I say; "I'm sorry. I just - if I can get through tomorrow, then we can deal with everything else, okay? I just want to hold it together long enough to say goodbye, and then the _rest_ can happen. Is that so wrong?"

"Of course not," she reassures him. "Just remember that your strength isn't _expected_. We're all here, and we're all going to get through it."

I blink. "Together?"

"I'd expect nothing else."

* * *

One sight of my family and I'm already starting to cry. In all my life, I never envisioned myself standing at the altar of the church in which my parents were married, about to give a eulogy at my mother's funeral. Never.

Esme Masen is - _was_ \- the woman who was supposed to outlive us all.

And yet, here I am. Here I fucking am.

My eyes flicker skyward at my own swearing. _Sorry, but I think we're both just going to have to deal with it today_.

I open my mouth to speak. "As - " I hesitate. I have to stay calm.

Bella isn't here.

My hands are visibly shaking, and it's so distracting.

I searched every face for hers, but Bella isn't here.

Even with the words written down in front of me, they still seem stuck. Somewhere, I don't know - just _stuck_.

I suck in a deep breath, turning my head towards the coffin to my left. Even in death, my mom is the most beautiful woman to have ever graced my life. She left instructions, of course. There is no wig, but there is a scarf. She's pale, but she looks as if she's sleeping. Finally. _Peacefully_.

Grandma Platt and my mom's sister have spoken already, each of them highlighting all the wonderful qualities that my mom possesses - fuck, _possessed_. It really isn't fair, just how lovely she is. _Was_. So, between the two of them, they ended up covering a lot, and my eulogy just seems like repetition now. I mean, how many wonderful things can we say about one person?

It's clear, though, that no words can ever do my mom justice.

Despite this, I still clear my throat and try again. I owe her that much. "As many of you here already know, I'm Edward, Esme's second son." I feel odd using her first name this way, but I do it. "First, on behalf of the Platt, Masen and Cullen families, I do want to thank you all for joining us today, in celebrating my mother's life. As short as it was, we all know she would claim that it was a good one. A great one, even, because she was so loved." I look around at the many faces in the pews. "It's easy to tell, from the sheer amount of people here today.

"But, it's not enough to ignore the fact that we shouldn't be here. Not for something like this. But we are. We are all here today because my mother is no longer with us. A disease took her away from our world. But not without a fight. She knew the end would eventually come, and yet she soldiered on. She suffered beautifully and painfully. In the end, yes, she may have lost the battle but one thing she taught me, and those around her, is that life, yes, can be ugly, but it can be beautiful too." It's _beautifully ugly_ , I smile at the memory. "She used to tell me stories about life's silver linings and, you know, I'm trying desperately to find the silver lining in what has happened here."

I take a calming breath because I need it. I don't need anyone to tell me that I'm never going to find a silver lining to the death of my mother. "My mom was a fan of poetry," I say. "It's no secret to anyone who ended up meeting her; she was definitely bound to tell you at some point. Over the years, she's collected poetry, in all forms: books, magazines, brochures, anything she could get her hands on. She liked to read to herself, and out loud. To me. To my siblings. To anyone who would listen, really.

"Marked as one of her favourites, as if she knew I would find it and read it here today, was the poem _Success_ by Bessie Stanley. I would like to share it with you today." I have to force myself to keep breathing. "'To laugh often and much; to win the respect of intelligent people and the affection of children; to earn the appreciation of honest critics and endure the betrayal of false friends; to appreciate beauty, to find the best in others; to leave the world a bit better, whether by a healthy child, a garden patch or a redeemed social condition; to know even one life has breathed easier because you have lived. This is to have succeeded.'"

I take another deep breath. "My mom was so many things to so many people. She was a daughter, a sister, a wife and, most important to her, a mother. She never said it out loud, but I could tell that she was worried that she would be gone, and it would be like she was never here. She was worried that she hadn't lived a life to be remembered; that she hadn't been successful with the time she was afforded. One of her greatest worries was not living a meaningful life. And, I know everyone who had the privilege of even meeting her would agree with me when I say that she did. Of course she did. She lived a meaningful, important, and _successful_ life.

"She accomplished _so much_. She gave of herself every day, fighting the good fight until the very end. This disease, this cancer, has claimed its final prize. After her breasts, her lymph nodes, her livelihood and her hair; it has finally claimed her life. But never her spirit." I pause to gather myself. "Today, I leave with words written by William Wordsworth: 'Though nothing can bring back the hour of splendour in the grass, or glory in the flower; we will grieve not, rather find strength in what remains behind.' This is what she wanted for us. _All of us_." I turn my head towards the coffin again, speaking directly to my mom. "Go well, Mom. We will weep for you. We will miss you. Thank you for your love and the memories you have left with us. I will love you always. Always."

With that, I step down, my legs barely carrying me. Peter stands up to guide me back to my seat, and I drop down immediately, my hands covering my face. I'm not ready for this. I'm not ready for a life without her. _Her_. My mom. Bella. My mom.

I'm just not ready.

I hold onto Tori's hand as we follow my mom's coffin out of the church. I would have been one of the pallbearers, but my mom was very clear. Her sons are not to carry her; they've carried her enough. I hate her reasoning, but I'm still a little grateful. I don't think I have the strength to help even if I wanted to.

Tori squeezes my hand as we walk. I can tell that she's tired. She hasn't slept properly since - just, _since_. I know she's having nightmares, and there's nothing I can do to help. What can I do? I mean, I can handle my own pain, but hers… how am I supposed to handle hers? I wish that I could bear it all; just, anything to make her pain even a little less. If I could carry it for her, I would.

The drive to the cemetery is made in silence. I have Riley with me. I don't know if my family decided that it's a good idea for me to be responsible for him, or if Riley could sense that I needed to have my mind focused on anything other than the fact that I will never ever see my mom smile a real smile again.

So Riley sticks close to me, and Charlotte and Peter seem content to allow it. Better to keep us together.

Jesus. I feel like such a child.

But I accept it regardless. Maybe this is what I need - to be micromanaged. Apparently my mom and Bella aren't against doing it either. I mean, what do they see that I don't? Is there something to be seen?

I startle slightly when Tori drops her head onto my shoulder, burying her face against my jacket as she cries. I don't know what to do for a moment of complete panic, before I place a gentle hand on her knee and squeeze. She doesn't look at me, but she does quiet considerably.

We're orphans. We're actually orphans.

The priest says more words, but I can't hear him. I don't want to hear him, because this is it. This is goodbye, and I'm not ready. Holy shit, I'm not ready for this.

The finality of my mom's death hits me like a bulldozer as I sit and watch her coffin be lowered into the ground. All I can do is watch in stunned silence as it happens, and it takes everything that I have not to launch myself at the coffin, and beg it all to stop. I need her to stay. She can't go.

Take me with her.

My fists clench, and my entire body tenses.

 _Stay in your seat, Edward_.

I feel someone's hand on my shoulder, and I glance back at Carlisle. Maybe he feels what I feel; maybe he can see what's happening, because his touch is the only thing that keeps me in my chair.

I look away from Carlisle, and I look at the hole in the ground before turning my attention to the tombstone a few feet away. I'm both surprised and not that my mom still wanted to be buried beside him. I wanted to ask Carlisle how he feels about it, but I figure that he and my mom discussed it.

She might have loved Carlisle, but Garrett Masen was her _ultimate_.

Is Bella my ultimate? Will there be anyone after her?

I force thoughts of Bella away and try to focus on what is happening right now without actually focusing. I want to be present, but I also don't want to be able to recall any of this in the future. It'll just be a day that I said goodbye to my mom, and that'll be that. I don't want to remember the details; I don't want to remember the words or the sounds or the sights.

One day, this will all be some memory, and I sure as hell don't want to remember the carved pattern in the wood of my my mom's coffin, or the smell of the freshly dug up dirt.

The rest of the brief service goes quickly and, at the end of proceedings, my family accompanies majority of the congregation to the house, but I stay put, seated quietly with Riley leaning against me. Jasper is sitting behind me, staring at the ground and fighting his own emotions.

This was not supposed to happen.

I can feel Jasper's presence behind me; his calming, knowing presence. He hasn't said much, which is something that I appreciate. It's just comforting having him around, knowing he's there. I can't imagine what he's going through, and I don't want to. I can't even look past what _I'm_ feeling.

The air is cool. It's probably going to rain. I sort of hope it does, and I hope it doesn't ever stop.

We sit in silence for the longest time, waiting, just watching. My eyes don't lift from the hole in the ground until I hear Jasper's phone vibrate. I hear him say a few words to someone - probably Rose - but I don't pay that much attention.

It's his hand on my shoulder that makes me lift my head to look at him.

"Masen," Jasper whispers. "We should go."

I wait a beat before I nod, sitting up straight and turning my head to look at Riley. He's asleep, and my relief is almost immediate.

Jasper stands up and moves around the chairs. "I've got him," he says, bending to lift the little boy into his arms.

I stand up, feeling my knees click. Jasper straightens out, and we both look at Riley. Peaceful, perfect Riley.

"I'm so glad he's finally asleep," I say, running a hand over his browning hair. He's been going full speed ahead since I can remember. He couldn't get to sleep last night, in his excitement to say goodbye to his Nana. I don't -

"You ready to go home?" Jasper asks, thankfully interrupting my thoughts.

"No," I say, laughing lightly. "I'm hoping I'll walk through the front door and she'll be there, waiting for me with that smile that she smiles." I look at the hole in the ground again. "Is it ever going to be okay?"

"I don't know," he replies, sighing sadly. "I wish I had answers for you. I want to have answers. But, unfortunately, I don't."

"Thank you for being here," I tell him anyway, my voice catching. I don't need him for answers; I just need him.

He looks like he doesn't know what to say, so he says nothing. Instead, he starts to walk, trying his best not to wake Riley. Dreamland is the one place he can go where he doesn't have to face the loss of his grandmother.

I fall into step beside my best friend, our strides oddly in sync. It isn't easy walking away from my mom, just leaving her alone in the ground and I can't help starting to cry as I do. The thought of her still body being left behind tears through me, making my body ache. And shake.

I have to stop walking, my breathing rapid and my heart racing.

Jasper also stops. "Masen?"

"I just - " I try. "Give me - one - minute."

Jasper watches me with wide eyes.

Is this it? Fuck, is this panic? Is this the breakdown?

"Okay," Jasper says. "Just breathe, okay? Let me put Riley in the car, and then I'll come right back. Just breathe. Focus on your breathing."

Breathing has never been so difficult. I bend over and put my hands on my knees, trying to _breathe_. I hear Jasper hurry away, and it's the first time I notice that we're already so close to the car; to my mom's _Volvo_. We're hidden by trees, and I'm suddenly grateful. It isn't as if there's anyone around, but I'm still relieved. Better I suffer through this in private.

I'm tempted to drop to my knees, but I can't. I have to walk away. I have to do it. She's gone. She's gone. She's never coming back.

Before I know it, Jasper is back and he's placing a hand on my shoulder. "Hey," he says quietly. "What did I say? Deep breaths."

I suck in a slow breath, and then let it out the same way. I do this a few times, before it feels like I'm coming back to myself. I feel ridiculous, really, having to dedicate so much brain power to what is supposed to be involuntary. I felt the same way during the eulogy. Once I think I have a handle of myself, I force myself to stand up straight.

Jasper looks worriedly at my face.

"I'm okay," I say hesitantly.

He wants to call 'bullshit' - I can see it in his eyes - but he doesn't. "We can always come visit," he says, as if he's read my mind. "We can always come back. We're not just leaving her here, Edward."

I blink. Logically, I know all this already, but it's quite a relief to hear him say it out loud. Of course, I can always come back. I'm pretty certain that I'll visit her far more than I ever visited my dad.

I'm angry with the both of them now.

"We can come back," I echo.

"Of course," he assures me, squeezing my shoulder. "Any time you want. I promise."

"Any time," I echo again, my head nodding. "Any time."

"That's it," he says, patting my shoulder. "We'll be able - " he stops suddenly, his eyes drifting past my face to somewhere behind me. "Bella."

I frown. "What?"

"Bella?"

"What about Bella?"

"No," he says. " _Bella_."

"Repeating her name isn't helping," I say irritably.

"No, Edward, it's Bella," he says. "Behind you."

I turn my head around so quickly that I almost give myself whiplash. When I spot her, my mouth automatically says her name, but it gets swallowed up by the wind. "Bella."

She's just a black figure, standing at the hole that now holds my mom and forever will.

She's here. She came.

 _Bella_.


	17. Chapter 17

**Chapter Seventeen**

She doesn't hear my approach.

The wind is picking up but everything about her seems so still, as if she's frozen in place. I catch sight of Harry in my periphery and I'm surprised by how _little_ I feel about his presence. I expected to feel _something_ but I feel nothing. I might have wanted to place some blame on him but I can't bring myself to do it.

I also can't bring myself to feel all the negative feelings I should about the girl in front of me. I wish I could because I realise that this makes me so weak and pathetic, but I'm just so relieved that she's here; that she actually came.

I manage to get quite close without her noticing me, but the wind changes direction and she must smell me or something because she turns sharply, her eyes wide with what I believe must be shock.

I'm a little _shocked_ too. I don't mean to be rude - I mean, I'm pretty much still in love with her - but she looks _horrible_. Like, worse than I feel, and that's saying a lot because I just buried my mom. She has dark bags under her bloodshot eyes and her skin is sickly pale. I can't help thinking that she looks _haunted_.

Oh, Bella.

"You're here," I say stupidly. Of course she's here. She's standing right in front of me. For a second, I consider the possibility that she's an apparition but then I remember that Jasper also saw her. I'm not going crazy.

Yet.

"I'm sorry," she says automatically. It's weird. Those are the last words she said to me, and now they're the first. "I waited until everyone left before I came up here. I just wanted to say goodbye and I didn't want to intrude when - and the - "

I automatically smile. I can't help it.

She blinks in surprise. "Why are you smiling?"

Fuck if I know, really. She's here right now and the great big world just doesn't exist or even matter anymore.

"Edward?"

I wait only a beat more before I move towards her and wrap my arms around her, holding her tight enough to hurt. I register her gasp of surprise, but she hugs me back just as fiercely after a moment of hesitation. I can't even describe the wave of relief that washing over me that she's here.

Wait.

She's here.

But she waited for everyone to leave, which means that she thought _I'd_ left. She didn't want to be seen, which means only one thing.

She's here for my mom.

It's a thought that hits me square in the chest and I immediately tense. She's here for my mom, and not for me.

Of course. I mean, I can't begrudge her _that_ , can I? She didn't want to be seen. She didn't want to make this day about her. She didn't want to ruin the _mood_. I mean, it isn't as if I didn't notice the looks I received. My mom just died and my celebrity girlfriend didn't even bother to show up. Wait until people get a hold of that.

But she's here anyway. _After_. She came after all, and I guess the relief at that tempers the sting. I have to remind myself that she made herself very clear that she didn't want me. I don't want to believe her but I might have to, if I'm ever going to get over - through - this.

I release her quite suddenly and take a step back. Jesus, I'm ruined. I'm so fucking ruined. I should hate her for it, but I can't bring myself to feel the emotion. I'm already feeling too much right now.

I'll hate her tomorrow.

"I'm glad you're here," I say quietly, my hands dropping to my sides. "She would have wanted you here."

She nods automatically, her eyes shining.

"But I certainly don't."

And then I turn and walk away.

I can't do this today. Maybe she realizes that because she doesn't call after me. I try not to think of how I feel about it. There's a war going on inside of me and today isn't the day for it. If I can help it, no day will be the day.

Jasper doesn't ask me about the exchange when I get to the car. In fact, he doesn't even mention it. Maybe he can sense the tension in my body or the shiftiness of my eyes, but we decidedly ignore the fact that I saw Bella today.

Bella.

It's silent in the car. There's no music and Jasper isn't saying anything. Riley is asleep in the backseat and I'm content enough to watch the world out of the window as it flashes by. The green of the trees seems dull and the light of the day seems grey. This part hurts. This part, when I come to realise that this is so not how I expected my year to go. I had high hopes. We all did.

I guess now they're going to be pinned on Riley.

The street is full of cars by the time we get to the house but space was clearly left for us in the driveway. I climb out to shift the bright orange cone out of the way so Jasper can park. Then I get back in the car and _don't move_.

Jasper says nothing.

When Riley starts to stir, the two of them go into the house, leaving me with my thoughts and my pain. Fuck, it hurts. All of it. It just hurts.

I barely look up when people pass by the car on their way towards the front door of the house. They leave me be, which I appreciate. I mean, I was sure I was ready to face this day. I was so sure I would be able to handle everything it would throw at me, but then _Bella_. It just adds and it just takes away. Somehow, I have to get through this part, and then I can fall apart.

I have it scheduled, you see.

I smile to myself at the thought, and eventually muster up whatever is needed to open the door and get out. I straighten out my suit and prepare myself for the endless clichés I'm about to be handed. _I'm here for you. It gets better. She's in a better place_.

Just repeats of what I heard not too long ago when we were here for my dad. It feels like no time has passed, really. I don't feel like there was enough life between the two deaths; barely enough time before we officially became orphans.

The house is noisy but not _too_ noisy. There are people standing around, chatting. Some are crying but most are smiling. I hope they're telling stories of my mom. The good ones; the happy ones. I'd hate for their memories to be tainted by the sad moments.

When people notice me, I get polite nods and murmured words. When Tori finds me, she hands me a plate of snacks that she knows I won't eat.

"Try anyway," she says when I pull my face downward.

I just about manage a smile, and then watch her walk away. Sighing heavily, I make my way to the kitchen and put the plate in the fridge. I want a drink but I'll wait. I want to run but I'll - I guess I'll wait. I get a _Red Bull_ instead and try not to think about Bella. It's much harder to do because she's in everything.

I down the can, chuck it, and then do the rounds. It's what is expected of me and I'm all about upholding expectations. I greet people, accepting condolences where they're given and trying my best not to lose it completely.

At a certain point, I decide that I need to get some air. It's too much and I need a breather.

I've just sat down on the front steps of the house when I feel a presence occupy the space to my left. When I look, I'm surprised to find Makenna sitting next to me, a glass of red wine held between her hands.

"Hey," she says.

"Hey," I say, taking in the familiar blue eyes and perfect, blonde hair of the girl I once loved with everything I had. "I didn't think you'd come."

"I didn't either," she admits. "I'm not a fan of funerals."

"I don't know anyone who is," I tell her, shrugging slightly. "But thank you for coming. She really liked you."

She laughs lightly. "Uh, no she didn't," she says. "She _tolerated_ me at best."

I can't help my own laugh. It sounds foreign coming from me but I'm going to take what I can.

"At least she didn't hate me," she adds a moment later. "Not the way she hated Karen."

"Oh gosh," I say. "She nearly fell out of her chair when I first introduced them."

"It was all the piercings."

"And that neck tattoo," I say; "which was wicked cool, by the way."

"It was," she agrees.

We fall into silence and I can't help feeling a sense of comfort settle over me. She isn't saying anything but her presence feels familiar. After this whirlwind of a day, I need familiar; I need calm and drama-free.

"I'm so sorry, Edward," she says after a long while. "This was - it just - I'm just sorry. Truly."

I glance at her. "I feel like every time I see you, someone's just died."

Her eyes widen as if she's been scandalized, before her shoulders sag. "Edward Masen," she says, shaking her head. "Too strong for your own good."

I frown. "What does that mean?"

She sighs, absently sipping from her glass. "This is what you do, isn't it? Hide yourself behind misplaced humor and unexpected darkness. You always seem to shield people from your pain." Her nostrils flare. "I just, I thought maybe the past few years would have changed you."

"And why would you think that?"

Her hand slips onto my shoulder, which forces me to look at her again. "Do you know what I see when I look at you?"

I don't respond. We've been here before. Our breakup consisted of words like these; feelings like these.

"I see someone who is _broken_ , Edward," she says. "Someone who doesn't look at all interested in trying not to be."

"My mom just died," I snap. "What the fuck do you expect?"

Her eyes narrow. "Like hell this is about your mom," she counters. "I'm not an idiot. I might be considered a heartless bitch, but I know you, Edward."

I frown. "Wait. Who called you a heartless bitch?"

She sputters. "Uh."

"Mak?"

"Well, Tori did," she finally confesses. "In her defense, we did just break up," she added; " _just_ after your dad died."

I sigh. "Sorry," I say. "I didn't even - "

"It's okay," she says. "Really, it was years ago, and my ego has been successfully replenished, thank you."

"I'm still sorry," I tell her. "I probably didn't explain everything properly when - "

She squeezes my shoulder. "When we broke up, just after your dad died."

I breathe out. "Exactly."

"Did I ever apologize?"

"Mak."

She sighs heavily. We've also been here before and I really don't want to hash it out again. I forgave her a long time ago, and I just wish she would believe it. She did what was right for her. Did it suck? Yes it did. But life went on and we both moved on.

Sort of.

"I thought your girlfriend would be here," she says after a moment.

"Hmm?"

"I actually can't believe that you're dating the First Daughter," she adds. "Like, who would have guessed?"

I swallow audibly. "Well, she _was_ here," I say, which is the truth. "And we're not dating anymore."

"Oh."

"Oh," I echo. "It's amazing what a parent dying can do for my relationships."

She flinches and I immediately regret my words.

"Sorry," I murmur. "Though, in her defense, my mom wasn't yet dead when we broke up. Dodged a bullet, didn't she?"

She flinches again, and I feel it in my very bones.

"Jesus, I'm sorry," I say, running a hand through my hair and tugging until it hurts. "You're right, aren't you?"

"I'm always right," she says, somewhat proudly. "How could you forget that?"

I smile crookedly. "You'll have to forgive me. My memory's a little foggy these days."

"Getting old, Masen," she comments, her hand slipping from my shoulder so she can nudge me with her elbow.

"I _feel_ old," I say, which just reminds me that I have a birthday coming up soon. My first one without my mom; my first one as an orphan.

"You _look_ old," she says.

"Did you come out here to insult me?" I ask, rolling my eyes.

"No," she says. "I came out here to tell you the truth."

"Then give it to me straight, Mak," I say, my eyes meeting hers. "What am I doing that's so fucking wrong?"

"You're not doing anything _wrong_ ," she says.

"Just not right then?"

She sighs, visibly deflating. "I did the same thing when my mom passed," she tells me. We've only spoken about her mother a handful of times and all of those times have been when she's been inebriated in some form. I absently wonder how much wine she's actually had to drink today of all days. "I shut people out and tried to hold on for dear life."

I want to argue with her. I'm not _shutting_ anyone out.

"You've never allowed yourself to _feel_ it, have you?"

"What are you talking about?"

"All of it, Edward," she says. "Your mom's diagnosis, your dad's spiral, his death, everything to do with your mom. Right now. You're just holding it in, letting it fester inside until it eats you alive." She sets her glass of wine down and takes my face in her hands, forcing me to look at her. "You have to _feel_ it, Edward. You have to let yourself feel it all before you can even think about moving on."

"Mak?"

"The more you keep it in; the worse it's going to get."

I feel her wipe my cheeks with the pads of her thumbs, stealing the tears I didn't even know were there.

"I have seen you at your best, and I have loved you then," she says, her voice strong and steady. "What makes you think that nobody would love you at your worst? Show it to us, Edward. Feel it, and let it out. Please. You have to forgive your dad. Forgive your mom. But, especially, you have to forgive yourself for not saving them. Forgive yourself, Edward; you have to."

I let out a sob that catches us both by surprise and she quickly wraps her arms around me, squeezing me tight enough to hurt. I clutch at her just as fiercely, like I _am_ holding on for dear life. Everything is so familiar: her smell, her touch, just the feel of her. I don't want to let go.

She makes sure I don't.

I don't know for how long we stay in that position but my sobs eventually grow quiet and the tension in my body releases to a manageable level. It's all the indication I need to know it's time to extricate myself from her arms.

One look at her face is all I need to see that she's been crying too.

"You look terrible," I say.

She lets out a laugh. "So do you."

I wipe my face with my hands, scrubbing away the evidence of my tears. "I'm sorry," I say.

"I'm sorry too," she echoes.

I reach for one of her hands. "Thank you," I whisper.

She lifts my hand, kisses my knuckles and doesn't say anything for the longest time. When she does eventually speak, her tone is low and somber. "You take care of yourself, Edward Masen," she says and it's the sincerity in her voice that makes my heart stutter. "I think I'm going to head back inside now."

I don't say anything.

She kisses my cheek, breathes out and then stands up.

I watch her turn to go.

"Hey, Edward," she says, looking at me over her shoulder.

"Hmm?"

"If we do actually see each other only when someone's just died, then I hope that I never see you again," she says, her voice barely audible.

"Does that mean we can't text?" I ask.

She lets out a small laugh. "Of course," she says. "Don't be a stranger, Masen."

"Back at you, Murphy."

* * *

I make the decision to return to Chicago early Monday morning. I didn't get much sleep, and I'm a little weary but I believe going back is the right choice. I have to finish my year, and then only can I consider what happens next. One thing at a time.

I'm convinced that my mom held on as long as she did because she didn't want to disrupt our schooling. With me involved in a grueling third year and Tori almost at graduation; she tried desperately to stay with us until the summer.

She failed.

It seems that I'm not the only one who's made decisions because the house is already up and running by the time I head downstairs. With my friends already back in Chicago and the extended family _elsewhere_ ; the house is just filled with immediate family. Jasper asked me if he should stay but I assured him it was okay to go. He had things to get back to, namely Alice and baseball.

Tori is seated at the kitchen table, simultaneously eating a bowl of cereal and paging through a school file. Charlotte is bustling about, packing lunches for various members of the house. Apparently, life is _supposed_ to resume as normal this morning. I find that I'm actually relieved by that silent, mutual consensus.

I find myself imagining that my mom is just asleep upstairs and we're just going about our day as if nothing has changed.

It makes me stop cold.

"So," Charlotte says, her eyes on me as if she can tell I need a distraction from my dangerous thoughts; "what are _your_ plans today?"

I move towards Tori and kiss the top of her head, before I pour myself a cup of freshly brewed coffee. "I have to catch up on some work," I say, sipping at my coffee. "It's probably all I'll do until - "

Charlotte blinks, picking up the thread. She's a God-send, this woman is. "The will reading."

I nod. "Also, I'm probably going to head back to Chicago tomorrow."

Tori's head snaps up to look at me. "Tomorrow?"

I swallow. "If I can get a ticket, yes."

"But," she starts, and then stops. "Never mind."

Charlotte and I exchange a look. Just from the significant tilt of her head to the side, I know that I'm going to have to sit down and have a talk with my sister before I leave.

 _Tomorrow_.

"Maybe Wednesday," I add after a moment. "We'll see." I look at Tori. "I'm definitely going to go back though."

Tori just nods. She understands that much at least. We'll still talk though.

Tomorrow.

Despite my intention to get some work done, I spend most of the day with Riley, soaking up his positivity and basking in the light that is Riley Evan Masen. He tells me tales about school and stories about his friends from the hospital. If I wasn't desperately trying to hold onto my own sanity; I would probably crumble at the thought that he has friends _from the hospital_.

In the afternoon, Riley goes next door for a few hours and the rest of the family - including Carlisle - attend the reading of my mom's will. I'm stupidly nervous, which is ridiculous because we already know what it's going to say. I've never been more relieved that there aren't any surprises.

Goodness knows my mom has been surprising _me_.

We all know where the money is going and where the house is staying. I get her car, which was something I didn't know until I was told. Hmm. But that's about all the surprises - I don't think my heart could handle any more than that anyway.

In the evening, Tori, Riley and I help Charlotte make dinner. Peter's working late but Riley's happiness is infectious and it eases the two - three - empty chairs in our house. Charlotte mentions to me that I should visit Carlisle before I leave. I already planned to but she wants me to make sure I say something very specific to him.

He's still welcome here. He will _always_ be welcome here.

Visiting Carlisle is the only thing I have planned for Tuesday, save for making sure I talk to Tori. I make a call to his office, pack a cooler and then head out in my mom's car - which is now mine, apparently. I don't know why it is but I feel more calm in her car than anywhere else. Okay, I do know why.

It's my mom.

It's always going to be about my mom.

Finding parking is easy enough. People know us in this hospital. Whether because of Carlisle or because of my mom, I can't tell. Like the last time I was here, I receive condolences and well wishes. I accept them all because it's what good and proper sons do.

Carlisle's office door is open when I get to it, absently greeting his assistant on my way.

"Hey," Carlisle says, standing up at the sound of my soft knock. "I wasn't expecting you."

"I called the front," I say. "Said you didn't have any plans for lunch. Charlotte sent me with something decent to eat."

He smiles in relief. "She worries too much, doesn't she?" he asks as he sits back down and gestures for me to do the same opposite him.

I shuffle into the room and drop down into an armchair. I set the food on the table in front of him and sit back, trying to find the words to say what I've really come here to say. He probably senses my unease because he gratefully takes the food and starts to eat, giving me that bit more time.

The silence drags on, my mind spinning and Carlisle making appreciative sounds with every bite he takes of the vegetable lasagna that Tori requested. It's good. Like, _really_ good. I'm going to miss Charlotte's cooking when I go back.

Because I'm going back.

It's where I end up starting when I finally open my mouth.

"I'm going back," I say after a moment.

He doesn't look surprised. Just curious. "When?" he asks.

"I bought my ticket for Thursday," I say. "I figure that I can get all the work I've missed on Friday and spend the weekend catching up to be ready for Monday."

He nods thoughtfully. "There isn't long to go now," he comments, which is the truth. "Exams should be starting soon... what then?"

I drop my gaze. "I haven't thought that far ahead," I admit quietly. "I kind of want to get through one thing at a time; keep my focus on a single thing whenever I can. It stops me from thinking about _everything else_." It's a truth I wasn't sure I was going to confess to him, but Carlisle would understand.

He always seems to understand. It's a bit unnerving sometimes.

"I made decisions," I tell him.

"About?"

"What we talked about."

"What we talked about," he echoes. "What did we talk about?"

"The loan," I say.

"The loan," he echoes. Then: "Would you be more comfortable if I drew up a contract?"

I blink in surprise, because this man is not human. "I would," I agree.

"I'll get it to you before you leave."

"Thank you."

He smiles gently. "Thank _you_ , Edward."

Somehow, I manage to return his smile.

"Is there anything else?"

I wait a beat, lean forward and take out my phone. "Actually... there is."

* * *

Tori is in her room when I go looking for her. It's late; well after dinner and I'm borderline exhausted. Even though I can't recount doing anything particularly taxing today, I can feel the exhaustion in my very bones. _Life_ is tiring.

I knock once, twice, and then open the door to find my kid sister lying on her stomach on her bed, scribbling something in one of her school notebooks. She's a Masen; school is important to us.

"Hey," I say softly. "Got a minute?"

She waits a beat before she scrambles up and shifts to sit cross-legged. "What's up?" she asks.

I scamper further into the room and sit down on the edge of her bed. I shift to face her and take a calming breath to prepare myself. "So, I booked a ticket for Thursday," I force out.

She nods thoughtfully. "Okay."

I swallow. "Okay?"

"Okay."

I bite the inside of my cheek. "T?"

She tilts her head to the side. "E?"

" _Can_ I go?"

"I'm not going to stop you."

That doesn't make me feel any better. "Do you want me to stay?"

"Does it matter?"

I run a hand through my hair. "Tori," I say; "please tell me what you need."

"What I need; you can't give me, Edward."

"Then what _can_ I give you?"

She's silent for the longest time before she completely throws me with her eventual response. "Can you give me back Mom's phone?"

I blink. Then: "Of course."

She shifts slightly. nibbling at her bottom lip. "I didn't actually _know_ ," she says softly. "What was on it, I mean. I guessed that there was _something_ , because there was a night when she asked me to take it away from her, and she cried. She cried _so much_." Her gaze meets mine. "It was about Bella, wasn't it?"

All I can really do is nod.

"I'm sorry."

I look away. I'm not ready to talk about Bella. As far as my family knows; she wasn't ever here and I'm going to keep it that way for now.

"I really thought she'd come," she says softly, her voice trailing off slightly. "I guess we were all wrong about her, weren't we?"

I can agree to that much.

She swallows. "So, Thursday, huh?"

I nod. "I'm just a call away," I tell her. "And, if you need anything - anything at all - you just call and I'll get on the first flight back."

"You're silly," she says, reaching out to take hold of my closest hand.

"That I am."

"I have Peter and Charlotte and James and Carlisle, and even little Riley," she says. "I think I'll be fine without my big, strong brother for a little while."

The idea of being away from her - from all of them - still makes me uncomfortable. "I'm sure you will, T," I return; "just, you know, _call_ , even if it's to bitch about those very people."

She lets out a light laugh. "You don't have to worry about me, you know?"

I shake my head. "I don't even know what that means."

"It's foreign to you, is it?"

I manage a smile. "I love you, Victoria Bryce Masen."

She shifts onto her knees and hugs me tight enough to hurt. "I love you too, Edward Anthony Masen."

Before I leave her room, I remind her to call me whenever she wants, and am suitably rewarded with a significant eye-roll. I don't know why but it truly is the first time that I believe that maybe she _will_ be fine. If I'm not the one to save her; she'll save herself.

* * *

I spend my Wednesday morning packing for my trip back to Chicago. I literally move in slow motion, probably in a subconscious attempt to prolong my departure as much as possible. I've accepted that I'm going back but it still doesn't feel like the thing I should be doing. It makes no sense to me and thinking about it gives me a migraine.

I work for a little while. Well, I _try_ to. My head isn't in the right space for anything productive and I try not to feel the anxiety that comes with that realization. So, when the distraction comes just after lunch, I take it. Hell, I _grab_ at it.

My phone buzzes in my pocket and I immediately reach for it, expecting a text from Jasper or Emmett. Possibly even Rose.

But it's not. It's definitely not.

It's from Makenna.

 **Mak: Hey, Stranger... They're having a sale on sheet music at Kaspar's. Thought you'd like to know.**

Despite myself, I can't help my smile. Makenna's always been a little heartbroken that I stopped playing music and I find it comforting that she's still on my case about it all these years later. She's always been a little stubborn and relentless. It was one of the things I both loved and hated most about her.

 **Edward: Hey, stranger Stranger. Kaspar's, huh? Find anything good?**

Her reply comes a beat later and I'm hit by the familiarity of it in a way that should make me uncomfortable, but it doesn't. Maybe she's realized what I need, and I'm going to take it. _Grab_ at it.

 ** **Mak** : Just browsing. Manny's still convinced I'm a troublemaker so he's keeping a close eye on me as I move through the aisles.**

 **Edward: With good reason.**

 ** **Mak** : Shut up.**

I glance over my shoulder for a moment, ignoring the sudden feeling that I'm doing something wrong. I'm not. I mean, we're just talking.

 **Edward: Pick something up for me?  
**

I hold my breath.

 ** **Mak** : Anything in particular?  
**

 **Edward: Surprise me.**

 ** **Mak:** Oh, you know me - just full of surprises.**

 ** **Mak: They have an entire Adele collection here.  
****

I shake my head.

 **Edward: You've always been a little in love with the contemporary pop pieces, haven't you?**

 **Mak: Maybe... but not as much as I love your original pieces.**

 _My original pieces_.

I haven't written a note of music since - since my dad, I guess. Just the reminder makes me feel uneasy, but I stand anyway and reach up towards the shelves above my desk. It's where I keep my music. It's where I keep pretty much everything that's not in Seattle.

I pick a ragged book of once-empty sheet music and bring it down, retaking my seat. I let out a long breath before I open the book to a random page. For a moment, I don't even recognize my own handwriting. The person who wrote in this book was such a different person to the person I am today. This person wasn't an orphan. This person was in love. This person was what he believed was happy.

I reach for my phone.

 **Edward: Why did you like them so much?**

 **Mak: The truth?**

 **Edward: Always.**

 **Edward: It's what strangers do.**

I wait a while. I imagine she's thinking about what to tell me, and I'm not disappointed by her eventual reply.

 **Mak: There were times when we were together that I felt there were parts of you that you never let me see. Whether consciously or not. I think it was to do with your mom's first diagnosis. You convinced yourself you had to be the perfect son and brother your family needed at the time, and I think you lost your way a little. But when you composed; when you played... I got to see you. ALL of you.  
**

I read the text a second time before I reply.

 **Edward: I always tried to be true to you, you know?**

 **Mak: I do know, Masen. As I you.**

I take a deep, calming breath.

 **Edward: Do you have a favorite piece?**

 **Mak: You ask difficult questions. Give me a moment to think.**

I do as requested and I page through my scribbles. I can hear the music in my head as I read through the bars, cringing in places and smiling in others. I'm surprised by some of the melodies my teenage mind came up with. Not that they're _good_ or anything; just that they sound _happy_. Light, somehow.

Nothing like I feel today.

Well.

My phone buzzes.

 **Mak: Okay. So, like, don't judge me for my choice. I was once young and in love.  
**

 **Mak: It's the one you played for me on our fifth date. We went to Laurie's, remember, and had the WORST fries in all of existence before we snuck into the school auditorium so you could use the piano. All of it was so exciting and it was a side to you I'd never seen before, but then you started to play and it was as if something - someONE - just took over your body. It was beautiful and so haunting, and it was the night I fell in love with you.  
**

 **Mak: The piece was mine, Edward: you called it Oculis Caeruleis. I even remember the spelling. Aren't you proud?**

Again, I have to read the messages a second time around. She's said so much.

 **Edward: I'm very proud. I have to confess that it's also one of my favorite pieces. And of course I remember that night. The fries were shit but the milkshakes were to die for. They're the only reason we ever went back**

I take a breath, steeling myself.

 **Edward: Also, I loved you long before then.**

 **Mak: Confession: I kind of always knew.**

 **Edward: Is that why you told me first?**

 **Mak: YES. I never would have if I wasn't sure. We protect our hearts, us girls, you see.**

I do see. I automatically think of Bella and absently wonder who's heart she was protecting when she broke mine.

Somehow, we fall into easy conversation after that, as I finish up with my packing and prepare myself for the trip back to the world that I'm now going to have to tread without my mom. I haven't really _lived_ in Seattle without her and I don't know how it's going to go. I mean, I guess I have my own support system there - as I have here - but it won't be the same.

It never will.

My last supper is a quiet affair. Carlisle joins us, which earns me a grateful look from Charlotte. I don't have the heart to tell her that he's probably only here to deliver the contract we discussed in great detail. I feel like such a grownup when I invite him into my office - my bedroom - and we sit down to talk it over one final time.

It's simple enough. I have no amendments.

When I sign on the dotted line, the banks will no longer own me. Of course, I'll have to make all the necessary arrangements when I get back to Chicago, but the mere act of putting pen to paper eases the grip on my soul just a bit. It's one less thing I have to worry about.

Carlisle stands when we're done and puts his hand out for me to shake.

I surprise us both when I hug him instead, and it takes him a moment to return it. Admittedly, I'm a little embarrassed when the short embrace does end and I drop my gaze like the awkward kid I suddenly am.

He places a hand on my shoulder, prompting me to look at him. "The other stuff is almost sorted," he says.

"Thank you."

We're silent for the longest time before he speaks, signalling the _end_ , I guess. "You'll take care of yourself," he says, adopting that fatherly tone I now believe he was born for.

I nod.

"Do you need a ride to the airport?"

I shake my head. "All sorted."

"You'll let me know when you arrive?"

I smile at him, somewhat knowingly. "Of course."

He shakes his head. "Idiot."

And that's that. We head back downstairs and I manage to be present enough for my last night with my family for a few weeks. It doesn't feel like this night is different to any other, but we all know it is. There are things we're still going to have to deal with but I reason they can wait until I get back for the summer.

I've even started a note on my phone. It's already got five pointers.

It might be four, when Carlisle pulls through. I say _when_ , because he's a man who's yet to let me down. I don't foresee it ever happening, if I'm being honest.

I don't get much sleep.

Before I head to the airport, I visit my mom's grave. The dirt still smells fresh. It's a short visit, during which I tell her my immediate plans: my return to Chicago, the loan and some other things. I don't bring up Bella at all. I'm not yet ready for any of _that_ , and I don't see a time that I will be.

One day. Maybe.

Owing to my lack of sleep, I'm exhausted and banking on being able to get a couple of hours of sleep on the flight. Which is a dream that all goes to shit when I settle in my seat next to 'Chatty Cathy.'

Okay. She's not _chatty_ , but she does initiate conversation before the doors have even closed. That's usually a sign of what's to come.

"Let me tell you a story."

I turn to my left with my phone still in my hand. I have the urge to call Bella. I usually do before I leave Seattle, but I don't this time. I _can't_. I mean, what do I even say? Would she even answer? Would the phone even ring?

She raises her eyebrows. "You look like you could use a distraction."

I'm only a little bit annoyed by her insinuation. Either way, I do put away my phone and give her my full attention, even turning my body slightly towards her. Sleep can wait, I guess.

Her features immediately soften, as if she can see the devastation in my eyes. "I'm sorry," she says.

"For what?"

"Your loss."

Does she see? Can she tell? I've lost so much more than my mom, and I don't know what to say.

"It's okay," she says, as if she can sense my trouble. "I'm Leah."

"Edward."

She waits a beat, as if she's contemplating whether telling me that she already knows who I am is a good idea or not. She decides against it, I guess. "Shall I tell you a story?"

"Please." The word itself comes out as a sort of plead, but I'm not even embarrassed.

She takes a moment, and then she starts to speak. I listen intently, studiously ignoring the air hostesses and their ever-important safety talk. If it came down to it; I wouldn't know where to find the emergency exits. Well, I probably _would_. I'm a frequent flyer, you see.

Leah's story starts when she was in high school and details the tale of unrequited love that turned into the real deal. I feel the hope flutter in my chest until she tells me that the boy she was convinced she would spend the rest of her life with left her for her best friend. Something about soulmates finding each other and nobody standing in the way of true love.

What strikes me as odd is that she doesn't sound the least bit sour about it. I guess it _has_ been decades but I imagine there would still be ill feeling about it. I guess I can't imagine ever thinking about this whole mess with Bella and not feeling something _bad_.

I wouldn't even know where to begin to get past this.

Which is really why I've decided that my best plan of attack is to take things one thing at a time. I mentioned that much to Carlisle and I'm determined to stand by it. I don't see myself getting through the next few weeks any other way.

Leah's story ends with her finding love elsewhere. She assures me that she's lived a long, fulfilling life, being loved by a wonderful man and loving beautiful children.

 _But_.

I hear what she doesn't say. It's in her tone of voice; in the sudden shift in her eyes. She might not have those _bad_ feelings towards what happened all those years ago, but she's never truly recovered from the loss of _that_ love.

Basically, I'm fucked for the rest of my life because I deigned to fall hard and fast for a girl who warned me she probably _would_ fuck me over. It's given me a bit to think about, which I suspect was part of Leah's plan in the very beginning. I'm distracted enough that the flight passes quickly, and then I'm bidding her farewell.

She too tells me to take care of myself, and then Jasper is wrapping his baseball arms around me.

"Welcome home," he says, and I feel something ugly twist inside of me. Chicago is home.

It's no longer Seattle, and I can't shake the feeling that it never will be again.

The house is alive when we get to Fraternity Quad. Apparently, we're celebrating my return and toasting the wonderful woman that is - was - Esme Elizabeth Masen. I'm a machine for not tearing up, and excuse myself as soon as I can, muttering something about having to let my family know I've arrived.

Emmett finds me fifteen minutes later, hiding in the small computer lab we have in the basement of the house.

He hands me a _Corona_ , and we clink bottles.

"It's good to see you," he says, his voice weary. I should ask what's been going on with him - he looks more exhausted than I feel - but I can't bring myself to do it. Something tells me he doesn't want to talk about it, so I won't try. I don't want to talk about anything either.

"Have you been holding down the fort?" I ask.

"Just barely," he admits. "It's been weird without you."

I just nod.

We're silent as we nurse our beers. This feels good and bad at the same time, like it's what I need but I shouldn't. Like, I don't deserve it.

Emmett clears his throat, suddenly looking nervous about something. "Newton's running for president," he says.

I glance at him. "Just him?"

"As far as I know." He sips his beer. Then: "I already put your name forward."

"I'd expect nothing less."

That gets me a toothy grin, and I feel both calm and anxious. I wasn't even sure if I would run again but Emmett's taken it out of my hands. It's fine. I'm fine. Everything is going to be just fine.

It's late when I finally make it to my room with the intention of calling it a night. I have unpacking to do and an entire host of classes in the morning but I'm not even bothered by any of it. I flop down onto my bed and pull out my phone. I have texts a plenty, from family and -

Who else?

 **Mak: Arrive safely?**

 **Mak: Edward?**

 **Mak: So help me, Edward Masen, if you missed your flight...**

I feel a sense of guilt wash over me, threatening to overwhelm me. She's been so kind; so much of what I've needed. So, as with nearly everything these days, I accept the role I must play and ready my fingers to reply.

 **Edward: Sorry! Landed a couple of hours ago. They practically threw a welcoming party. My boys apparently can't function without me.**

 **Mak: Had me worried. And, yes, that makes sense. Though, I'm not sure who it says more about: you or them.**

 **Edward: Them. Definitely them.**

We text for a while. Well, until I fall asleep, still in my Seattle clothes and laced shoes. All I'm grateful for is that I don't dream. I'll take the small mercies where I can. As freely as I can.

I wake up what feels like two minutes later to two texts, one from Tori and another from Makenna. I reply to both before I roll out of bed.

And then I go for a run.


	18. Chapter 18

**Chapter Eighteen**

"So," I breathe.

There are just blank faces staring back at me, and I realize why it's taken me all year to organize another one of these things. Nobody wants to be here - particularly me - and I want to make it as painless as I possibly can for everyone. I wring my fingers together and take a deep, calming breath.

"So," I try again. "Thank you all for coming. I know we're all really busy right now but we all know this was going to have to happen eventually." I risk a smile, which eases some of the tension. I don't even know why we're all so tense. Maybe they know what I'm going to say.

I glance Jasper's way and he nods in encouragement. The two of us spent eons discussing this very meeting, and then we had to explain it all to Emmett, who was his usual go-with-the-flow boy. I'm just relieved my two best friends in the entire world are on the same page about this as I am. Turns out I'm not the only one who's been thinking -

Anyway.

"Before we begin the final meeting of the year," I say to my gathered Chapter brothers; "I just want to say something." This is the part I'm afraid I won't manage to get through, but I still try. "I just, well, I wanted to say thank you to you all. On behalf of myself, my mom and my family... just, thank you, for all your kind thoughts and prayers, and all your support during these difficult months. Especially recently.

"I know I haven't been around lately or easily reachable, so thank you for not burning down the house in my absence." There's a rumbling of laughter that helps me settle a bit more. "My mom was fond of you boys; always asked after you, and I think she was more comfortable having her son gone because she knew I was here with you crazy lot."

I'm forced to duck my head, trying to hide my face, because there are tears in my eyes. Shit. _Get it together, Masen_.

"So, thank you," I say again.

And then I start the meeting.

I reach into my back pocket for my little navy blue notebook and open it to the most recent page. "First things first, the final maintenance logs are going out end of this week so, if you want something fixed in your room before the start of next year, you're going to have to write it up. I'll do a walk around to check the rest of the house tomorrow but, if you're feeling kind and want to make my job easier, you could just tell me what's wrong with our oh so sexy house so I have an easy submission." I flash a smile and get a few in return. "With regards to next year, letters of intent to stay on for the next academic year have to be sent to Prof Ephraim before the end of June. Remember, sending the letter is just one step towards your return. Your year will be under review, and you have to, well, _not fail_ , to secure your spot for next year."

And the tension is back. It's pretty easy to tell we're nearing the end of the year, and our final exams are just around the corner. We're moving into that stage of the semester where the boys are going to hole up in their bedrooms and study their asses off, because majority of them have probably been winging it all semester.

But, a celebration first.

As is expected.

"Next, we're holding our last official party this weekend, and then our annual farewell bash with the Deltas is on the night exams officially end." I glance at Jasper again, fighting off the urge to roll my eyes. "Our dear brother, Jazz, over here, thinks we should theme this weekend's party. Any takers?"

I'm met with silence.

"Thank God," I mutter, which earns me a laugh. "I've drawn up lists of what needs to be done, which should help with the party going off without a hitch. I've posted them on the board in the foyer. If you have any questions, ask Jasper." A little laugh. "If you need _me_ , I'll be the one barking out orders on Saturday."

"Idiot," someone comments, and I'm relieved my emotions from earlier have subsided.

We discuss a few other house-related things before I get to the second thing that I'm wary of talking about.

"And, lastly, we have to discuss the election for Chapter President," I say, sighing. "My intention is for it to be as quick and painless as possible. I think I speak for majority of us when I say I don't want it to drag out at all, because I would really like to be able to hand over the reigns before we start writing exams."

Maybe he picks up something in my voice, because Eric raises his hand, a heavy frown on his face. "Why do you say it like that? Aren't you running, Edward?" he asks, and I have a mild flashback to this morning when I almost ran myself right into the ground. I can't even recall how many miles I got through before I started to see stars.

I sigh. Well, now is as good a time as any. "Actually, Eric, I'm not," I confess, which gets a significant gasp out of the group. Then, because I'm a glutton for punishment, I add: "In fact, I'm leaving the Chapter House at the end of the year."

That causes an uproar and I swear Jake would tackle me if he wasn't squished between two other boys on the two-seater couch in our common area.

I raise my hands to quiet them. "Guys," I start. "Don't get me wrong, I love it here, and I love being your President. I just - I'm just so _tired_." Nobody says anything to that, because they seem to understand. "Moving into this house, trying for President, working myself like a dog... it was all to make money for medical expenses. For so long, I put everyone first, but she - I - " I stop. "Next year is my final year, and I want to be able to focus on it without the stress of this job."

"So you don't have to run," Eric says; "but you could still stay."

I smile at him. "And there I thought you were vying for my job," I tease.

He blushes. "Edward."

"I need a change," I say. "This house has great memories, but also not so great ones as well." I accept that I don't have to elaborate on that. This house has seen a lot. Too much. "Please respect my decision. I mean, it's not as if I won't come visit."

"He'll have to," Tyler says; "Em and Jazz will be here."

My expression quickly turns to guilt. I'm such a fucking masochist. "Uh, well, you see, I'm kind of taking them with me," I confess, thinking it's best to get it all out there now. We'll all feel better, surely. Or worse.

"What?"

"No ways!"

"Fuck no!"

I step back, feeling a little overwhelmed by the collective reaction. "We're kind of a package deal, guys," I say. "Everyone knows that. Where I go, they go, and where they go, I go." My words don't appease anyone. The three of us are one of the main reasons the Sigma Phi Epsilon Fraternity is as popular as it is. Ephraim is probably going to shit a brick when he finds out we have no intent to stay. I'm going to have to tell him, of course. I can't just _not_ send my letter of intent.

"It was bound to happen," I say. "I was never going to stay forever."

Nobody stays forever. I know that now. Well, I've always known that, I guess. It just sucks that I have to be reminded so often.

When I finally dismiss everyone, there's still a bit of grumbling. I hang around to see if there are any questions, but nobody approaches me. I'm guessing they're all still mad at me or something. Who knows?

I'm just pocketing my little notebook when Jasper sidles up to me, smiling in sympathy.

"Well, that went well," he comments.

I glare at him. "Thanks for all your help, by the way."

"And get in the middle of that, no ways." He pats my shoulder. "Cheer up, Lamb Chop. You just told them Papa Masen is leaving them; they need time to process."

"They're not my children, Jazz."

"But Em and I definitely are."

Despite myself, I let out an unexpected laugh and shake my head in the process. Then: "We're doing the right thing, right?"

"Does it feel like we are?"

I spend a moment thinking about it. Jasper mentioned that enacting too many changes in my life could be a symptom of my grief, and could possibly add to it. He thought I made this decision in response to what's happened, and I was forced to tell him I've actually been thinking about it for a while. I mean, I see where he's coming from, though I reckon the fact that this 'change' would really take effect when we get back after the summer helps my case.

I was going to move out.

I was always going to move out.

His coming with me is his decision, and Emmett was always going to follow. He may look like a bear but he's loyal to a fault. Wait, are bears known to be loyal animals?

"Ask me again tomorrow," I eventually tell Jasper.

He nods slowly.

"Jessica's going to be happy."

He frowns. "Why?"

"With me and Em gone; she could actually stand a chance of completing her set of Sig Eps." I laugh at my own joke but he just scowls. "Come on, that's funny."

He's about to respond, when we both hear my phone buzzing in my pocket.

"Hold that thought," I murmur as I pull my phone out and spy Tori's name. Before, I would have panicked at the thought of her calling this late, but we've talked every night this week at around this time. "Talk later?" I say to Jasper.

At his nod, I answer the phone and start for the stairs, heading up to my room.

"Hey, T," I say, and then immediately shut up at the sound I hear. She's hysterical and, for just a moment, I panic. What happened? Oh God, what _more_ could have happened? When I realize she's actually laughing and not crying, I frown. "Uh, hello?" I murmur, stepping into my room and shutting the door with my foot. "Tori?"

"Edward," she says, the amusement still in her tone.

"Hey," I say. "Is everything okay?"

"So," she starts, breathing out as if her laughter has been a workout. "I may or may not have done a thing, Edward."

"Okay..." I say, moving to lie down on my bed. "What did you do?

She hiccups.

"Tori, are you drunk?"

"Maybe."

I frown. "Where are you?"

"At James' house."

That makes me feel marginally better. "You were drinking?"

"I was drinking."

I blink. My sister doesn't drink. "Is that the thing you did?"

"No."

I swallow audibly. "Victoria Masen," I say, my voice sterner than I remember it ever being. "Why did you call me when you're drunk?"

"Because I called Bella a bitch."

My eyes widen. "What?"

I hear the phone fall, and then get picked up again.

"Edward?"

It's James. "What's going on?"

"Look, I found her like this," he says first. "She's okay. Just, well, drunk. She was at Amber's house and there were people there and they were drinking. I guess someone asked her about you, or about you and Bella and - "

"And what?"

He clears his throat. "She called Bella a bitch."

I run my thumb and forefinger over my eyebrows, creating an outward 'V' to keep my irritation in check. "Okay," I say. "I don't know why this is a big deal. Tori's called my ex-girlfriends that a number of times."

"No, Edward, she called Bella a bitch on camera."

I freeze.

"Some fucking idiot posted it online. It's gone viral."

I blink. "What?" I ask stupidly.

"Your drunk sister just called your ex-girlfriend, who also happens to be the President's daughter, a bitch for breaking your heart when your mom was dying. On camera. For the whole fucking world to see."

Okay, so, in the great scheme of things, my reaction probably isn't normal. I mean, I know I should panic and try to do damage control but all I can really do is burst out laughing. It's a full-body laugh. Really, I cackle. Like, what the actual fuck?

James hesitates. "Uh, Edward?"

"This is fucking brilliant," I manage to say, sucking in a breath.

"Is this funny?"

"It's hilarious."

"You're not mad?"

"I'm fucking furious."

"Oh."

I sigh. "Sober her up before you take her home, James. I'll have a talk with her later." And then I hang up.

My laughter is long gone by now. I mean, out of all the things I thought I would be dealing with today, this isn't one of them. I was supposed to be drafting letters, finishing up with my syllabus and preparing for my marathon study sessions, but now my sister's called Bella a bitch... and it _is_ fucking hilarious.

I've just dropped my phone down onto my bed when my door flies open and Jasper is standing in my doorway.

"Edward," he says, his eyes wide and face pale.

I groan as I roll over. "So," I say, as I stand up.

"You know?" he asks.

"James just told me," I say, moving towards him. "Is it bad?"

He shakes his head. "It's worse."

I follow him out of my room and down the stairs to the TV lounge. There's a group of boys gathered around the screen, and it's blaring. I never thought I'd catch my boys watching _E! News_ but there's a first time for everything. There's a small segue way into the video, and then they play it in all its glory. The quality is bad. It's dark and noisy, but it's clearly my sister.

My very drunk, teenage, sister.

" _So, how's Edward?_ " someone out of frame asks, which is the wrong thing to ask because it starts Tori on some other kind of tirade about Bella's and my relatively short romance, our unexpected breakup, my mom's death and her thoughts on all of it.

Thoughts _I_ didn't even know about.

And, finally, she finishes off with the words the entire country is probably talking about.

" _She's a bitch_ ," she says. " _That's about it, isn't it? Bella Swan is the ultimate bitch_."

There's a chorus of laughter, and that's the end of the video.

I bury my face in my hands. Fuck, fuck, fuck. What was she thinking? Saying those things? Getting drunk? Jesus. My mom is probably rolling over in her grave. And Bella. And Charles Swan.

I feel a hand on my shoulder and I look up at Jasper. He has questions in his eyes, also at a loss as to what to do or say. What are we supposed to do about this?

"Get Rose here," I say, and then I go back to my room. I don't even know what I'm supposed to do. I mean, I'm pretty sure Bella has people who can and will take care of this, right? They'll scrub the internet of the video and everything will be fine, right? Right? I mean, her father is the fucking President. He has the CIA and all those important people to sort this shit out.

I pace for what feels like an hour, but is probably only a few minutes, before my bedroom door is opening again. Rose looks equal parts confused, annoyed and concerned when she arrives. All things that spike dangerously when I say my next words.

"I know you've spoken to Bella."

Her eyes widen.

"It's okay," I add a beat later. "I don't care." It's a lie and we both know the truth of it. "Look, I just need you to tell her I didn't _want_ this. I don't think she's a bitch."

"But you do," she counters.

I roll my eyes. "That's not the point," I say, slightly annoyed. "Just tell her, okay? I didn't want our issues blown up like this. I didn't ask Tori to do this. I just - I wanted to finish up this year in one piece, and this - " I stop, waving a defeated hand in the air.

Rose steps towards me, absently reaching out to touch my cheek with her right hand. "I'll tell her, Edward."

I feel winded. I mean, I guessed that Rose talked to her, sure, but having it confirmed really throws me. She's spoken to Bella. God, I have so many questions but I just about manage to hold my tongue. I convince myself I don't actually want to know. I'm better off not knowing.

"I'll tell her," she says again, and I reason it's all the conversation I have the strength for. I have to deal with my teenage and drunk sister, and somehow figure out what or even _if_ there's a punishment for it. I mean, Tori's essentially been raising herself these past few years and I've always trusted her to make her own decisions. This... this just seems irresponsible, and I worry if it's a manifestation of the grief she won't talk to me about.

I sigh, and Rose smiles warmly at me. She seems to understand, because she says nothing more. Just pats my cheek in comfort, and then turns away. But, even as I watch her leave, I can't help myself.

"Rose," I call out, and she turns back to look at me expectantly. I take a breath. "How is she?" I ask.

She already knows about whom I'm talking. "Awful."

I swallow. "Did she ever tell you _why_?"

She shakes her head. "Just - just that she didn't have a choice."

I frown. "But you think that's bullshit?"

Rose turns her body to face me, her facial features soft and understanding. "What I think is Bella Swan is a nineteen-year-old girl who found her forever-boy, whom she was convinced she would end up ruining. What I think is there are all sorts of external factors that she _can't_ tell us about; that she's not allowed to because - "

"Because she's the President's daughter."

She nods solemnly. "What I think doesn't matter, Edward."

"It matters to me."

"Then know this," she says, her tone serious; "when it comes down to it, and it will, you're going to have to deal with all of this eventually, because we both know you haven't."

I swallow.

"Are you expecting her to come back?" she asks.

"Are you?"

She takes a moment. "Not until after the election, no," she says. "Not while - " she stops, letting out a small laugh. "It's all so bloody complicated, isn't it? Who knew the President's daughter would add this much spice to our lives?"

I roll my eyes. "Don't lie," I say; "you totally knew."

"She warned us, didn't she?"

"Repeatedly."

I sigh, and she follows with her own a beat later. We smile at each other. They're tired, defeated ones.

"I should get going," she finally says. "We both have damage control to do."

I shudder involuntarily.

She watches me for a moment. "And, don't you for a second think we aren't going to discuss the fact you're moving out of the Chapter House," she says.

I frown. "How did you find out?"

"Emmett is kind of my boyfriend, you know?"

I raise my eyebrows suggestively. "Is he now?" I ask, smirking. "Are those official titles?"

She huffs in annoyance. She and Emmett have been doing this thing for months now, but they've never put a label on it. Until now, I guess. "Also, it's the talk of Fraternity Quad."

"But I _just_ told them."

"News spreads, Masen."

I shake my head. "I guess that's not the only Masen-related thing that's gone viral."

She shakes her head in slight disapproval at my attempted joke. I don't regret it one bit, but it does force a certain heaviness to settle over my chest. I was _just_ getting to a sort-of good place, and now _this_.

"It's going to be okay, Edward," she says gently. "I don't know how or why or even _when_ , but it's going to be okay."

"Why do you sound so sure?" I find myself asking.

"Because I've _seen_ ," she tells me. "If you've already managed to survive all this life has already thrown at you, I'm convinced you can survive _anything_." She smiles ever so slightly, her gaze meeting mine. "And, just in case you forget or something - because you _are_ getting old - you have all of us to help and support you. Even when you're too damn proud to accept it."

Now, Rose and I don't really _hug_ , but I make the exception tonight. She's been so good to me, and to the boys, and to Bella, despite it all. I close the gap between us in three quick strides and drag her into my arms. She's tense with surprise, but she eventually relaxes into it and hugs me back.

"You do know I'm committed to Emmett, right?" she teases after a while, and I chuckle as I release her. "Homewrecker," she mutters, sending me a playful wink.

"Get out of here," I say, shaking my head. "And, really, you _wish_ I would rock your world."

"Oh, please, I would rock _yours_."

I can't help the severity of my words. "I think my world has been rocked enough, thank you very much."

No more words are exchanged.

* * *

It happens the day we throw our Chapter's last solo party for the year - the, thankfully, _unthemed_ one.

Which is also the day Bella calls me. Three times.

I miss her calls because I'm busy preparing for the party. Well, I'm more or less just telling people what to do. _This_ is something I'm definitely going to miss. They grumble good-naturedly, but I can tell they'll miss this too. There's something comforting about things that _don't_ change, and my bossing people around is something I suspect will remain with me for years to come.

But, look at me, making decisions, exacting changes and avoiding my heartbreak like a total pro. _Whoo_. I can feel Jasper keeping a close eye on me, and Emmett is always just _around_. I'm a little irritated by it, because it's obvious they think I'm going to implode or... explode. Honestly, I don't know which will be worse. I'm trying to remain optimistic enough that neither will happen. I'm holding it together.

I send Jasper out with the Orange Beauty to pick up some last minute supplies and I return to my room to get ready. I don't really care much for what I'm going to wear but, if this is going to be one of my last parties as a member of a Chapter House, then I'm going to enjoy it. I'll get drunk and enjoy the night with my closest friends and hopefully forget that two of the most important women in my life just left me.

When I check my phone, I have three missed calls, one voicemail and a text from Tori. She's apologized to me every single day this week, even crying into the phone when she _finally_ sobered up. I had to skip a day of classes to avoid people and questions, and I've kept myself securely trapped in areas of campus where the media isn't allowed. I've been contacted endlessly about my comments on the situation, but I've stayed silent. What are they expecting me to say anyway?

Sighing heavily, I reply to Tori's message. I suspect she's also a little mad at me because I was the one to suggest her punishment for the underage drinking. Sure, it was probably severely hypocritical of me, but she was drinking for all the wrong reasons, and I won't stand by and watch her devolve. Peter agreed with my assessment, and he was the one to tell her she's grounded until after graduation. James is the only person she's allowed to see at the house.

We're not _completely_ heartless.

The voicemail is from the three calls I missed and, even as I lift the phone to my ear, I feel uneasy. It's as if I just _know_ , and, as soon as I hear the first tremor of Bella's voice, I pull the phone away and try not to panic. No. Just, no. Why is she calling me? I haven't _done_ anything. Okay, so she's probably calling about the video, which makes sense, but this still makes me irrationally angry. Like, _extremely_ angry. Why would it take something like _this_ to get her to call me, when she couldn't even be bothered to make _any_ contact when my mom fucking _died_.

Breathing out through my nostrils, I return the phone to my ear and listen, my eyes automatically closing as the sound of her voice rolls over me and through me, to lodge itself deep in my gut.

" _Edward, hi,_ " she says, clearing her throat. " _It's Bella. I - umm - how are you_?" She sighs. " _Look, I'm not supposed to be calling you, but this is something you need to hear from me. On Monday, a man named Frank Kincade is going to contact you. He works as a press liaison for the White House, and he's going to ask you to release a statement about our relationship and the way it ended. He's already written it_." She pauses here to gather herself, I suspect. " _You're not going to like what it says. I sure as hell don't, but it's necessary. It's - it's required. The scandal of our... breakup has shifted the current polls, and my father is..._ " she trails off, and I can only imagine what her father feels about my sister's fifteen seconds of fame. " _The statement is - it's a denial of how serious we were. It'll say we broke up weeks ago, and that you don't share your sister's views on everything that's happened. It's a horrible lie, Edward, and I wish none of this was even happening. I wish I could make it all go away; that we'd never -_

 _"I'm sorry about so many things. Especially this. Frank is going to_ tell _you you need to do this, but I'm - I'm_ asking _you, Edward. Please. I know you owe me nothing. I know it's unfair of me to ask you for anything after everything I've done, but I need this from you. We all do. I need you to agree with everything he says, even if you don't like it. It's - it's for your own protection_." She sucks in a breath. " _God, I'm so sorry, Edward. I'm so sorry. This was - it was never supposed to be like this. I thought - I wanted -_ " her voice catches on a sob. " _I just wanted to be able to love you and be with you, but I can't, and I'm so sorry for that. You deserve better, and you deserve_ more." She takes a solidifying breath. " _This number isn't mine, so please don't call it. Please just say yes to Frank. I'm sorry. Take care of yourself_. _I lov - sorry. God, I'm so sorry. Bye_." And that's it.

I don't move for a solid thirty seconds.

And then I throw my phone across the room. It bounces off my curtains and crashes to the floor. I spare a fleeting thought that I hope it's not broken, but I really don't care. I don't care about much of anything in this moment and all I want to do is get stupidly drunk and try to forget _everything_. Maybe I'll even black out. God, that would be _wonderful_.

I take a breath, bury my hands in my hair and tug _hard_. It feels good, and I even come away with a few strands. I'm on my way to that baldness my mom predicted. I absently think I could probably not even touch my hair and have it still fall out with all the stress I'm under. It's all just so exhausting.

Alcohol.

I need alcohol.

Forcing Bella's message from my mind, I head downstairs... and get drunk. I don't even try to pace myself as the party goes on all around me, even though Emmett and Jasper do. I can feel all my friends' eyes on me, but I decidedly don't care. Right now, there isn't much I do care about other than drinking enough to make me forget I've just heard Bella's voice for the first time since I buried my mom. I _need_ to forget that she was seconds away from telling me she loves me. I want to be numb of the mere thought they want me to deny the extent of my once relationship with Bella.

So, I bypass the _Corona_ and go straight to the strong stuff: tequila. But I barely get through a full bottle before Jasper is forcing me back upstairs to my bedroom, accompanied by Rose and Emmett. They're looking at me with all the care and concern in the world, and it makes me angry. I don't deserve any of it. I never knew if I was an angry drunk until this moment, and I barely let them question me before I'm yelling in their direction.

"What?" I snap, staring at them accusingly. "What, Rose? Jazz? Huh, Em? What? What do you all want from me?" My fists clench tightly and I let out a growl. "What do you want from me?" When nobody responds, I feel a sudden and unstoppable flash of pure rage. " _What_?" I screech, my voice cracking. "What more? What _else_? I don't know what you want from me, so you have to tell me! You have to tell me! Just tell me!"

"Edward," Rose murmurs, and it sounds like she's crying. Or, is it me?

 _One of us_ is crying.

"I can't do it," I say, deflating. "I _can't_ do it."

"Do what?" Jasper asks. "What can't you do, Edward?"

"I can't pretend it didn't happen," I mumble brokenly. "I can't just pretend I wasn't so hopelessly in love with her. I still am, so I can't. She can't make me. I won't - I can't - " Now, I _know_ I'm the one crying. "Did I do this?" I ask, almost pleadingly. "Did I do something to deserve all of this?"

"Edward," Rose says again. "Edward, no."

"It's my fault," I say. "Everything is my fault. I was - I was too happy, and then she was just gone. And my mom - " I sob into my hands, my back arching. "I - I couldn't save her. I couldn't _do_ it. I didn't - I didn't have enough time. Why didn't I have enough time? It's my fault. I couldn't save her. I should have done more. I - " my voice cuts off as I'm knocked by another wave of desperate cries. "She left me. She just _left_ me." I don't even know about whom I'm talking right now, but the sentiment still remains. Bella or my mom; they both left me. "Why? What am I - I don't even know what I'm supposed to do? What do I do? How - what - " I drop to my knees, practically begging for answers.

From anyone.

 _Please_.

I feel a hand on my back, and then I'm pulled into a warm embrace that offers me no comfort.

"Breathe," Jasper says right into my ear. "Just breathe, Edward. Breathe."

I breathe in, out, in, in, and then, mercifully, I black out.

Thank you, tequila.

* * *

I don't think I even have any more tears left to cry.

Rose makes sure I eat, and Jasper ensures I get my work done. Emmett keeps me indoors when I have the sudden urge to run, and Alice forces me to stay clean. Hygiene is important, apparently, and I get through the weekend.

 _Somehow_.

* * *

When Frank Kincade calls on Monday morning, I barely let him finish introducing himself before I say, "No," and then hang up. I ignore every single follow-up call, hitting 'Reject' with entirely too much force than necessary. My phone's screen is _already_ cracked after I threw it across my room. Eventually, I just switch it off and go about my day with a vicious scowl on my face, hating the idea of life enough to want to get revenge on it.

How dare they? How dare _she_? I'm not some pawn in some elaborate plan to reclaim the White House, just to be used and moved about at will. I'm not. I refuse to be. If they want a fucking statement, then I'll give them one. I spend my day drafting it in my head while trying to pay attention to my lecturers and ignore the stares of my classmates.

When I get back to my room, I have to switch on my phone again - I have to talk to Tori - and I'm hit by an influx of emails and messages. Briefly, I contemplate what it really means to piss off the White House, but I decidedly don't care. I won't let them demand something of me. _Especially_ if it's not true. I won't deny the extent of my relationship with Bella, and I sure as hell won't lie to make her or her stupid family feel better about whatever role they played in said relationship's eventual demise.

Also, I think, I'm _really_ mad at my mom.

And Tori.

Fuck.

Everything is just a fucking mess.

I was _fine_.

I was doing just fine, taking it one day at a time, making decisions and working towards the completion of this fucking horrific year. And now... Now, I have to ignore people and their questions. I have to make sure I don't stumble into reporters and I have to dodge phone calls from the _White House_. Honestly, what has my life come to? The worst part is that it's only the Bella side. There's also my family, and then school, and my friends.

I'm - I'm falling apart.

But.

I have a test to study for, I have to reassure Tori I've forgiven her, and I have to prepare for tutoring and compile several documents for Ephraim. I want to go for a run but I force myself to remain in my seat and _work_. I'm good at this part. If I can just focus on this for the next few weeks, I'll be okay. Things _can_ only get better, right? God only knows things can't get any worse.

Sleep fails me and I work until I pass out at my desk. I don't dream. I suppose exhaustion does that to you. I awake before my alarm, back stiff and drool on my tabletop. It's beautiful, really, and rather disgusting. I stand and stretch my limbs, hearing my joints click and pop dangerously. One would think my body would be used to sleeping at my desk after the number of times it's happened, but apparently not.

In lieu of a shower, I change into my running gear and head down to the kitchen. I force down a banana and grab a bottle of water, before I head out of the house and breathe in the fresh air. The sun is barely peeking over the distant hills, and I smile faintly to myself. I love sunrises. I'd be remiss to find someone who actually _hates_ the sight of them. Though, it's completely understandable to hate what they represent. A new day and all that; having to wake up and face the world.

Nobody needs that.

I pause on the sidewalk to lightly stretch my muscles, mainly to even out the stiffness from my sleep but also to prepare them for the exercise through which I'm about to put them. Once I'm ready, I start at a slow jog, absently fiddling with my earphones to get my running playlist filling the empty spaces in my mind.

I put my left earphone in and, as I lift the right one to my ear, I hear it. The sound of screeching tires hits me first, before there's a black SUV right in front of me. Like magic or some shit like that, the front door opens and a large man jumps out. Probably four seconds later, I'm persuaded - though, not really, I'm just dramatic - into the backseat.

I've barely got my bearings, when I'm already speaking. "Jesus, Bella, if you really wanted to talk, all you had to do was - "

"Mr Masen."

I freeze.

That's not Bella.

That, most definitely, is _not_ Bella Swan.


End file.
